DOGOS
by Akktri
Summary: Inhabitants of a space traveling office building arrive on Pandora, invoking the wrath of the nature goddess. Will a nerd, a lovestruck Barsoomian, and their corporate security task force be enough to defeat this powerful enemy?
1. Chapter 1: Sleepwalker

I work in an office building that can teleport through space. Don't ask me how or why, but it does.

I've seen it happen.

I was there.

The first world I witnessed it teleporting to was Pandora.

The movie Avatar is actually real, but they got the details wrong.

The four armed people from _John Carter_ are real, too, and the women are super cute.

Okay, so I'm weird, but it comes with the territory.

I have always had frequent dreams about blue cat people on alien planets, all of them ending with me waking up naked, outside, surrounded by quasi-Indian artifacts that I somehow crafted in my sleep. One time I even killed and cooked the neighbor's cat.

I've been to doctors and take medication, but none of it helped.

The only solution, it would seem, would be an unscheduled trip down the corporate rabbit hole.

My story begins with me waking up naked on the flat shingled roof of a Sprint telephone collections center.

I had no idea how I got up there, or why.

Minutes before, I dreamed I was on a mountain face somewhere, stalking after a big red leathery thing with a shovel shaped beak.

It was windy, and the cold air chilled my naked skin, rumpling the narrow strip of leather that served to cover my intimate areas.

My hands, blue in color, gripped the rocks as I silently crept after Shovel Beak, the Ikran.

And then, seeing its anxious movements, I jumped, chasing after the thing with all the speed I could muster.

Bounding from rock to rock, I boldly ignored the frightening heights that lay below the jagged rocks, obsessed with an all consuming lust of sticking my hair tentacles in the creature's brain, and mounting him.

The creature neared, its glistening red-purple wings mere inches away.

I leapt.

I missed.

The moment I jumped, the beast spread its wings, taking into the air.

I fell screaming off the side of the cliff.

I woke, shivering and damp, on a rooftop, ice cold droplets pelting my naked skin as I curled on the tar and gravel tiles.

No shirt. No pants. My white cotton briefs felt like a sodden washcloth.

I leaned over a wall and saw that I stood above my office. In the distance, through the sheets of pounding water droplets, I could see the familiar concrete office buildings, the empty weed choked field beyond the parking lot, the dilapidated old barn on some farm property in the far distance, the rolling Kansas hillsides.

How did I get up here? I thought. And how would I get down?

And not only that, how would I get down without getting fired or arrested?

It was then that I remembered the ladder.

Inside, near the entrance of our warehouse-like building, there was a white metal ladder going into the ceiling. They always said it went to the roof, but I never had an excuse to go up there.

There was also a padlock on the lid.

I didn't let that deter me, for it was either the ladder or jumping off the side, and I doubted the fall would be pleasant.

A few feet from an air conditioner unit, I found the ladder rungs, climbing down.

As expected, I encountered a lid, but for some strange reason it came open when I pulled on the handle, and I was climbing down into my office's dry interior.

In my underwear.

I was probably going to set off an alarm, and end up on some TV show about funny burglaries caught on tape.

I had been sleepwalking again, dreaming about blue alien cat people, while my unconscious body played Indians in the buff.

The previous night, I had a dream about mom and dad being blue cat people, and we were celebrating Thanksgiving in a jungle.

I saw an old blue skinned female creature dressed in skins. She came up to me with a shard of bone and stabbed me with it, cackling as she wiggled it around until blood poured out of it like a small fountain.

I fought her away and tried to run, but she kept coming after me with the bone, laughing hysterically. My parents didn't try to stop her. Instead they just told me to stop being mean to grandma Mo'at.

When I awoke, I found myself lying naked on the bedroom floor.

I always sleep with my clothes on.

When I reached the foot of the ladder, dripping water on the faded old carpet, I discovered I wasn't alone.

A man in a two piece black suit stood behind me. A humorless square jawed face with meticulously cropped blonde hair and ice blue eyes.

I'd never seen this stranger before in my life. I figured he was from Sprint's corporate headquarters, or some new manager.

"It's very cold, Mr. Finch," the man said. "You'll catch pneumonia."

Before I could ask him how he knew my name, or who he was, he raises his hand, and suddenly I'm waking up in the passenger seat of my car, dampening the seat with my dripping half naked body. Somehow, the rest of my clothes had materialized into the car seat next to me.

I had no towels in the car, because you don't normally plan for things like this to happen, so I had no choice but to make my clothes soggy by putting them back on. The heater could only do so much.

Did I dream the whole thing about being on the roof and the man in the office? If so, why were there scratches and something that looked like brick dust under my fingernails?

But then again, how did I get back in the car, if it was only a dream?

I napped for a moment.

5:42. To my sleep deprived eyes, even the building seemed to be the wrong color.

I sat up, assessing the night's damage in the mirror. Unkempt red hair, bloodshot blue eyes surrounded by freckled bags. Yeah, I'm ready for work, I thought.

I slung my ID badge over my toothpaste splattered green polo.

Deciding to let the rain wash off the stains, I locked up, marching into the storm.

No lightning. The sky above the gray cinder block of a building looked like a Hollywood matte painting, unnaturally bright and colorful in contrast to its shadowy surroundings. It reminded me of a background from the movie _300_.

I marched up to the back entrance on one of the gray cubes, swiping my name badge across the security scanner.

I pulled on the door handle, but it didn't open. With my shirt a damp rag and my hair matted down over my eyes, I scanned my badge and tried it again. The door lock still refused to open. My watch said 5:46. I thought for certain they would be open by now.

Many employee badges do not unlock a building at all hours of the day and night. When a manager wants the building locked up for the evening, they actually shut down the security lock so nobody can get in without a real key.

I gave the door another tug, then frowned at the downpour blowing through the parking lot.

Sighing, I got back in my car, waited about ten minutes, then tried the door again. The sensor light failed to turn green.

A familiar rusty gray pickup sped past, parking a few spaces down from me.

Harry, I thought. Just another grunt. I was hoping for a manager, since they were the ones that unlocked the building.

The lights on the truck went dark and a man with white hair and a button down shirt stepped out, marching up to the building.

"Door won't open?" he yelled.

I shrugged, walking over to a nearby window.

Seeing nobody occupying the desks, and venetian blinds covering the other windows, I marched over a small hill, crossing a staircase to a window with an unobstructed view, peering at the desks near the back office.

I pressed my face against the glass and stared in there a few minutes, and as the rain poured down on my head, I saw the man in a black two piece suit walking behind the row of desks nearest the window.

Was I dreaming again?

I frowned, wondering if it were worth it to tap on the glass. After all, he apparently booted me out of there before.

For some reason, the man was waving around an alarm clock like he were using it to check for radiation. It was the first of many puzzling things I would soon find out about this company.

"Is anybody in there?" I heard Harry saying over my shoulder.

"I don't know. Some weird guy with an alarm clock." I didn't bother telling him about my sleepwalking escapade. This was too weird to be believed already.

Harry peered in the window. "I don't see anything."

I frowned as I watched the suited figure hold the clock up against the various computer monitors.

"He's doing something with the computers."

"Maybe he's tech support or something."

A second later, the man disappeared into a manager's tall cubicle.

"I think you're looking at a chair. It's hard to see anything in this rain."

"A moving chair?"

"Maybe I'm not looking at the right desk. Try knocking and see if he opens the door."

I hesitated, wondering if I had actually seen the man.

Harry knocked on the glass. "Hello!"

Just then the suited man came back out, sticking something on one of the phones.

A moment later, a fat bearded figure in a Star Trek shirt stepped out of a hallway near the bathrooms. Tom the call control monitor. I guess he'd been in the bathroom or something.

I always hope that Tom will open the door, but he rarely does. I watched him anxiously as he waddled down a row of desks, oblivious to my presence as usual.

I gasped in shock as I saw him step right through the man in the suit like he wasn't there. I rubbed my eyes, trying to rationalize what I was seeing.

"Something the matter?" Harry asked.

"N-no," I stammered.

Harry rapped on the glass again, and as he did, I blinked, and the man in the suit vanished like he'd never been there. I just stared at the empty spot with my mouth hanging open, wondering if my insanity wasn't limited to merely seeing blue people and sleepwalking.

It turns out this wasn't the only strange thing that would happen to me.

My life was about to get weirder.

A lot weirder.


	2. Chapter 3: Oddities in the Office

Hearing a muted beep and a click, I turned and saw Harry opening the door.

Worried that I'd be late, and actually get pneumonia from standing out in the cold rain for so long, I put the image of the suited figure out of my mind, racing up to the door with my badge.

It still didn't open.

Generally, at this hour of day, the building would be unlocked by one of three managers, Jolene, Gary, or Sam, the team lead.

On this particular morning, it turned out to be Jolene, a short, unfriendly woman with straight blonde hair. She didn't say a word to me, she only regarded me with a bored expression as she held the door open. She wasn't any better at mornings than I was.

Once through the cramped little security hallway beyond, I set about my morning preparations, like putting my lunch in a refrigerator crammed with plastic bags of unidentifiable substances, on top of a cheesecake tray that had occupied that same shelf for more than three weeks.

As I warmed up my first cup of coffee of the day, I noticed a figure in a Hawaiian shirt and khakis sipping a steaming beverage as he stared out the giant glass windows. The rain pounded the glass in thick shadowy sheets that made it difficult to see past the street lamps in the parking lot.

"Boy, it's really coming down," the old man said. "Reminds me of that one time I went canoeing on Lake Michigan. I was out in the middle and I took on so much water I thought I'd have to swim to shore!"

I just said "huh" and drank my coffee.

"The fish went crazy, I tell you what. The way they all rose to the surface like they did, you would have thought someone dropped a stick of dynamite down there."

I rolled my eyes. It was too early for me to tell stories, even if I could tell it in a clever and humorous way. I left him, marching into the call center.

I was practically the only one there. At six in the morning, the neatly arranged ranks of empty chairs and desks reminded me of one of those movies where some giant weapon or a disease causes all of humanity to disappear. Kind of creepy.

As usual, Steve the I.T. guy was at a computer, monitoring call volume statistics and idling in a teleconference.

Steve was overweight, his stomach sagging over his pants, but his hair and beard were well groomed. He was a strange animal. For a brusque, silent type, the fact that he wore Star Wars shirts and occasionally showed up dressed in chain mail, like King Arthur on the way to a battle, made him kind of cool. If he wanted to do live action fantasy roleplaying on the weekends, more power to him.

I attempted communication, but he only responded with a grunt.

He must be a reticent king, I thought. The strong but silent type.

Still puzzling about the stranger in the tux, I sneaked over to the area in which I'd seen him waving around the clock.

For the most part, nothing in the area looked like it had been touched. I saw nothing extraordinary about any of the desks or computers. In fact, nothing at all seemed amiss until I peeked into the manager cubicle I'd seen the weirdo vanish into.

The first thing I saw when I stepped inside was a video recording of a large humanoid blue colored pig with dreadlocks, wandering around in a jungle.

The first thought that came to mind was that this was _Avatar 2_, or maybe 3, and that maybe explained the pig creatures. As for why it was there, managers always get to do fun things at their desks, like watching movies and surfing the web.

But as I squinted at the film, I noticed the distinct lack of action, music, or dramatic pacing, like I were watching live camera footage.

Bravo, I thought. Must be the DVD extras.

I listened to the audio on a pair of headphones near the monitor and heard a guy talking about Na'vi, which is odd because the Na'vi in the movie didn't have snouts or pig ears.

And then I saw something I wished I hadn't.

In the background of the video, I could see another blue figure, this one carving a message on the side of a concrete wall, and this is what it said:

My name is Jason Finch.

I am from Earth.

I do not belong here.

Please help me.


	3. Chapter 4: Quarrels

I stared at the screen in horror. What the hell was going on?

Before I could properly process this information, I heard feet stomping up behind me.

"Hey!" a voice shouted. "What are you doing! Get out of there!"

I turned and saw the top of a shiny bald head. Looking down, I noticed it belonged to a squatty dwarf in a Hawaiian shirt. Vincent.

"Sorry," I stammered. "I..."

I stepped away from the desk, awkwardly staggering backwards.

"Shoo!" the dwarf said, waving me away.

His face turned a bright red when he noticed I hadn't moved. With an angry glare, he growled, "Shouldn't you be logged into the phones already!"

"Right!" I stammered, backing away.

I hurried to my desk, logged into the phone and computer, and took calls for two hours.

"Why my phone off. Why my bill so high? I promise to pay you next Saturday. I didn't know my account was charged off against my credit." This is what the conversations consisted of.

The rows behind me filled up with coworkers. Then I noticed a black man in glasses logging into the phone next to me.

Curtis.

Curtis was cool, but the way he talked to customers, I really couldn't figure out why they hadn't fired him. We're supposed to be getting payments for phone reactivations, not talking about sports, or preaching, or political scandals, which he got into after his third call.

This time it was some sort of discussion about sexual misconduct and the NFL. I rolled my eyes and pretended I wasn't hearing all that.

Suddenly I see a flashing light on my company instant messenger.

Jolene.

"Log into meeting and see me in my office," it said.

I swallowed. What did I do wrong now?

I'd gotten in trouble for sending company inappropriate instant messages a few weeks ago, but I had avoided using the little program ever since. But if it wasn't that, what else could it be?

With my stomach sinking, I set my phone to Meeting to stop the calls, then nervously crept into the office at the back of the call center.

The computer on the manager's desk displayed an image of me dangling from the roof ladder in my cotton briefs.

"Care to explain?"


	4. Chapter 5: Snaker

The video only showed me. It didn't show the man in the suit. I wondered if I were really going crazy.

"I sleepwalk," I said. "But I've been seeking treatment."

Her expression was humorless. "Do you often sleep in this building?"

"Not...if I can help it," I stammered. "It's an early time to get up, so I often take naps in my car before the building opens."

I sighed and rubbed my face. "I'm sorry. It's a recurring problem, and I'm taking meds, but there's not a whole lot else I can do about it."

"Funny you should say `recurring.'"

I swallowed. "What, you have more security footage?"

She responded by pulling out one of her desk drawers, dropping it on the desk top with a noisy rattling bang.

I stared at its contents. It looked like a year's worth of handmade faux Indian artifacts.

"I believe these belong to you."

I paled. "Are you sure all those are mine?"

Jolene shrugged. "I don't know of anyone else who would prowl around a locked building in a loincloth and play Indian until the doors open."

I pushed the drawer towards her. "You can throw that stuff away. I don't want it."

"I believe not," she said. "It's evidence."

"What," I said. "You're going to sue me? I hate to break it to you, but I don't have enough money to make it worthwhile. Unless your aim is to send me to prison."

She gave me a look like she were planning to do that very thing, but then said, "The next time you sleepwalk and damage company property, we're deducting it from your paycheck."

"Fine," I sighed. "Show me where to sign."

And so I signed a waiver and returned to my desk.

Since that little discussion took so long, it was now break time, so I used the opportunity to get coffee. When I got back, it was the usual song and dance. Misapplied payment dispute. An argument about late fees. One payment. Lots of promises.

The calls were suspended for an hour for training, so I flipped through a pointless instruction module designed for sales and technical support, something that had no bearing on collections, then laid my head on my desk as I waited for everyone else to finish.

"Rough night?" said a voice behind me.

I groggily sat up, turning my chair to face the speaker. "I had insomnia."

"Take some Benadril," said a whiny sounding fat guy in the row behind me. "That works pretty good."

"Me, I take a shot of whiskey like this." Harry held up a couple pinched together fingers. "Mix it with orange juice or hot milk, and it puts me right out."

"What I do is get some hot juice or tea," said a voice to my right. "Take a cup of that and watch the Weather Channel for a few minutes, and I have no problem sleeping."

My two cubicle mates then got into a discussion about news stories, a badly concealed murder, the culprit's weak alibi, and some unsupervised kids dying from playing a game involving a plastic bag. Soon the topic changed to plans for the weekend. Harry said he got his truck fixed, and he was fishing at the lake, spurring a discussion about trophy catches.

I took my lunch and came back to find them still chewing the fat.

I suddenly noticed a strange new face in the office, an athletic looking forty year old woman with curly brown hair and narrow angular features. The woman had on a white shirt and black slacks, and carried a clipboard full of papers.

She was going down the rows, notating something or another, but I couldn't tell what.

I asked about her in the company instant message program, but I couldn't get an answer from anyone.

I thought for a moment that it had something to do with me being disciplined for sending messages with inappropriate content a week or so ago, but then, after a long pause, someone said that the woman was checking computer towers. They had to know which one went to which login ID, which seemed plausible, except she seemed to be looking more at our faces than our computers.

"Who is she?" I typed.

Another long pause.

"I think her name is Grace," said a fat guy in the row behind mine. The back of his chair faced me, but I could tell it was Max by the whiny voice. "I think she's a new manager."

"Grace Augustine," someone told me in a private message.

"Funny," I typed. "She doesn't look much like Sigourney Weaver."

The other employee replied by saying he once worked with a guy named Fred Flintstone and he didn't look like his TV counterpart, either.

About ten minutes later, the "training" ended, and I was back to talking to customers about their bill.

I took my last break for the day, and as I was standing around the break room, I suddenly noticed the strange woman retrieving a Diet Coke from a vending machine.

When she saw me, the first thing she said was, "Mobmik! Viravo poiagutewe?"

For reasons unknown to me, I blurted something I didn't understand, following it up with a confused "What?"

She only laughed and walked away.

Thoroughly confused, and thinking it were all a joke, I returned to my desk, too tired to fully understand what had just happened.

An hour later, and I began to wish I had fixed another cup of coffee, as my head kept drooping forward as I handled the calls, getting accused of being drunk a few times. I stood up to combat the fatigue, and I managed to make it to 2:30 without seriously botching a call.

Everything seemed fine as I marched through the now crowded office and got into my car, but when I shifted into reverse, I suddenly heard a crunch.

Shifting back into my space, I got out to check the damage.

I had just accidentally backed into a dirty black Trans Am with a license plate reading "SNAKER." A string of little skulls the size of ping pong balls hung from the car's rearview. The skull motif carried on through the seat and steering wheel covers.

I could see the handle of a gun poking out from beneath the passenger seat.

Not knowing who I was dealing with, I could easily imagine how this little exchange was going to play out.

Poorly.


	5. Chapter 6: Sapmux blood

I saw a huge dent in my rear bumper, but the car behind me looked no worse for wear.

I looked all around the car, but it looked like I had done more damage to my rear fender than the other car. I saw a little blotch of discolored paint, but that was it.

No noteworthy scratches, dent marks or any other glaringly obvious signs of damage. Nothing important like headlights or anything were affected. The car needed washing, and the birds hated it. That's all I could surmise.

I would have left a note, but I couldn't even tell if that's what I hit anyway. It's pretty much like hitting a light pole and leaving a note telling it I'm sorry. Cheap Japanese cars.

I just knew that if I left the other guy a note, he'd exaggerate the repair of a tiny scratch to make it sound like I caved in his front end, so I just drove home.

I wish I had my own place.

My house is in the suburbs, a plain looking split level with a garage, a concrete stoop with an awning serving as the front porch, and a brick flower box full of dirt and dead plants.

The architecture was identical to every other house in the neighborhood. In fact, I once went to a Christmas party in the house next door and I knew exactly where the bathroom was, even though I'd never been there before. The floor plan was that similar.

The main thing that made our house different was that the sliding glass door on the back was stubborn, there were books and papers and piles of junk everywhere, and the garage smelled like dog pee.

I wish I could move out.

I smelled my dad the moment I came through the door.

Inhuman body odor and cigarettes.

He was retired, had only a few friends he met once a month, and his marriage was cold, which meant he didn't care about showering, I guess.

He was small and wiry now, a far cry from the big leathery reptile of a man that used to squeeze my throat until I passed out when I accidentally dropped the dishes.

His skin had the appearance of cured cowhide, discolored and stretched by the sun, yellowed by nicotine.

He was smoking and watching NCIS, the Thanksgiving episode I've seen dozens of times.

Thanks to his Camel rewards, he owns a frayed Joe Camel jacket and Joe Camel seat covers. He has other merchandise too, but it's not as interesting due to the removal of Joe from the public scene. Those cigs aren't too good for his breathing, but it helps to mask the smell.

As I glanced at the scene with DiNozzo complaining about the food at the Indian casino again, dad looked up at me and I wondered what schizoid personality I'd be facing this time.

Last month, he was mellow. Too mellow. When I tried to get up and do things, he got upset because I was blocking the TV and making noise. When I went to my room and played on the computer, he complained I was avoiding him and not being part of the family. But the only thing we do as a family anymore is watch TV.

This month, he was manic. He became obsessed with removing recycling bins from the house and places in the yard, trimming the hedges at four in the morning, and micromanaging my house work.

This time, he started bragging about how he mowed the grass in the rain, both the back and the front yard, and did all the dishes. He complained that there had been a layer of black film on one side of the sink where the dishes had soaked for too long, lecturing me for about eight minutes on how I should wash the dishes with greater frequency.

Well, that, and how he constantly has to do things like clean blood out of the bathtub and the sink and pick up after other messes I make during my sleepwalking episodes.

I looked away, staring dully at the barf green carpeting on the floor as he lectured me. There is nothing more annoying than being lectured on how to do something when someone already did it for you. Plus, he exaggerates. Generally I'm the only one who does the dishes. A lot of what's in the other side of the sink isn't dishes, it's mom's recyclables, and it has a slow drain. And I only put dishes in the dishwasher when I can actually fill it.

Knowing that arguing would only prolong his lecture to infinity, I bit my tongue and let the complaining wash over me.

Once he was satisfied that he'd made his point, I marched up to my room, enduring jeers about how I was "sulking" and "hiding in my cave" because I was "upset that I couldn't leave a black film on all the dishes in the sink".

I fancy myself a cartoonist, though I really haven't had any success with it.

My cartoon is kind of like Judge Dredd, except they're squirrels and they do funny things. It's better than I describe it. I go to places like Deviantart and post samples every week, but I just get ignored. I hated my dad for calling my artwork "dribblings", but maybe that's what they are.

At any rate, that's what I was working on in my room. After that, I prepared supper while mom ironed her clothes for work tomorrow.

Dad hates fish, but I cooked it because that's what we had.

He complained about it for the entire duration of the cooking process, about twenty minutes, as if someone were pointing a gun at him and telling him he had to eat it, when I couldn't care less if he ate it or not.

"I'm not eating!" he announced, as if he were the only person in the house to cook for.

As I set out the plates and silverware, he grabbed a box of cookies and a bologna sandwich, pigging out in front of the television.

The rest of us ate in silence, and quickly, my shirtless brother doing his usual weird thing of wrapping his piece of fish in a tortilla.

At last mom spoke, telling us a story about a nightmare of a customer at the health clinic check in desk, and a diabetic patient who fell on the floor and needed five people to get her into a wheelchair.

After another silence, dad started another rant about how I left a pot in the sink. He made it sound like I was letting the dishes stack up to the ceiling, of course other people put their stuff in there too, but it wasn't nearly as bad as before when we had a layer of black crud on the left side of the sink.

"You're going to make it like you had it before when no one was doing the dishes and we had a layer of black mold over everything."

"But I did the dishes," I protested. "I actually put things in the washer once a week."

"You need to do it more than that. I don't want dishes in this sink anymore."

"If I do that, someone will take the dirty dish out of the dish washer and try to use it."

"That's why you've got to wash it, not just put it in the dishwasher."

I shook my head in disgust. "So I'm supposed to run the washer with two dishes in it? That's a waste of soap!"

"Don't be ridiculous. You know exactly what I meant. You're not going to leave the dishes piled up in the sink like you had it before."

I sighed and gave up trying to argue.

Mom went upstairs to watch TV in her bed.

When I finished eating, I scrubbed my plate, cup and silverware clean with an SOS pad and rinsed them off.

"Now you're just being stupid!" dad said. "You're washing dishes by hand just because I said something."

I frowned. "You want the sink empty, but you're not letting it get full enough for me to actually use the dishwasher. You want me to waste soap and just wash this one dish in the washer?"

"If we had it your way, the sink would have a ring of black mold around it like we had before I started cleaning them."

"Excuse me! I always do the dishes!"

"Then why was there a ring of black shit all around the sink? Why were there dishes piled all the way to the ceiling?"

"I had to have actual dishes to put in the washer! I can't just put one dish in there and run it! It's a waste of soap! But I did the dishes! There was only a ring around that one side because it had dog dishes and recyclables in there."

"Now you just want to argue. You know full well what needs to be done. You just don't want to do it."

"No, you just got jealous because mom says I'm the only one doing dishes around the house, so you're trying to show me up!"

He hit me in the side of my head. It smarted, but it actually hurt my pride more than it injured me.

I could have fought back, but I knew better. I just shut my mouth.

"If you don't like the way I'm running this house, you can leave."

I almost got kicked out for screaming at the neighbors at four in the morning and firing arrows at their windows. Another sleepwalking episode. Somehow I assembled a bow out of a PVC pipe, one of those rubber straps mom uses to tie off patients' veins, old car keys and a bag of yard debris. MacGuyver would have been proud.

Dad wasn't. He started shouting for me to leave the house, and how he'd call the police, then he starts trying to drag me out the door. If mom hadn't been there, I would have been homeless.

For this reason, I didn't dare reply. I was skating on thin ice as it was. Instead, I just nodded, putting things in the dishwasher.

The small handful of things that didn't deserve to be washed by themselves.

Once I had the machine running, I marched back up to my room.

"That's right. Go hide in your cave!" dad shouted. "Go hide just like everyone in this house!"

To me, that made absolutely no sense. He argues, he smacks me, then he wants me to hang out in the living room and "be a family."

I paid him no attention, choosing instead to embellish my pictures of squirrels blowing people's brains out.

About half an hour later, I heard my father and mother shouting from downstairs.

"What did you do to the car!"

Startled, I put down my markers, rushing to the front drive, where my parents stood staring at the damage done to my rear bumper.

Seeing that the cat was already out of the bag, I broke down and told them what happened.

"Dad, um...I was at work today, and I think I may have backed into someone's car when I was pulling out."

"Did you leave a note?"

"Well," I stammered. "No, I..."

"Hit and run is against the law, you know."

I swallowed. "The damage looks like it's all on my end."

"That's not what the court will say. It doesn't matter. You've got to at least leave a note."

He took a puff on his cigarette. "You got insurance, right?"

"It's all my fault," I said. "There's no point in making the rates higher. It's only cosmetic damage. It'll be fine."

"It doesn't matter. The other driver is going to look at the car, and he's going to ask questions. The longer you delay, the sooner he'll send the FBI to arrest you. You'd better leave a note pronto, and pray he won't press charges."

I shook my head. "There's no telling if he's still there. He might be working the same shift. I'll leave the note tomorrow."

"You'd better!"

And on that note, my father grumpily marched back into the house.

The next morning, I woke up naked beneath a crude tipi made of fallen sticks from my yard, trash bags and piles of leaves. The only reason why I didn't miss work was because I snapped awake at four in the morning.

No violence this time, but apparently I had fashioned several crude wreath things out of found objects and laid them all over the house in some strange ceremonial fashion.

My work day started out ordinary and unremarkable. The sky looked normal, and nothing weird happened.

After I had parked in the lot, I checked the other spaces, but didn't see Snaker's car anywhere. Getting nervous, I waited for the doors to open, keeping a watchful eye for that black Trans Am.

When 5:45 passed without a sign of the vehicle, I could only sigh and walked into the building, going about my normal business.

Arguments about premium data charges and text messages. A thirty minute fraud call where the woman cried into the phone and refused to speak to the fraud department. A "why is my phone off" call. Etcetera.

I fell into the usual routine of setting up extensions on phone service, asking for payments, explaining bills, and informing people that their accounts were in collections.

I took a call from a woman who said that the phone account with her name and social security number actually belonged to her roommate, demanding that I call the roommate and make her pay, after I switched her phone service back on. I told her no, which resulted in it being escalated to a supervisor. Usual stuff.

About twenty minutes into this, I saw my corporate instant messenger flashing red in the corner of the screen, my boss Gary's name in the box. It was a private message. Private messages from the boss are rarely good things.

Swallowing, I read what Gary sent.

"Did you touch Victor's computer yesterday?" it said.

Feeling cold and pale, I typed no.

Ten minutes passed without Gary sending me anything, so I closed the box, assuming we were done.

Figuring the lack of response was a good thing, I returned my attention to the relentless stream of phone calls.

Phone service restoration. Trying to squeeze payments out of customers who refused to pay anything.

"What's with Victor's desk?" I texted. Gary gave me no answer.

Since it was break time, I decided it a good time to check the parking lot for Snaker's car. It wasn't there. It was annoying to have to keep checking outside all the time like that, but it wasn't like I had his phone number.

When I returned to the building and got a cup of coffee, I found the strange woman seated at a break room table, typing something on a laptop.

Still confused about our exchange on the day previous, I tapped her on the shoulder.

"You stopped and spoke to me earlier," I said. "But it was all gibberish. I don't get it. Is this some kind of game?"

She just chuckled and shook her head. "If it's gibberish, why do you keep communicating to me with it?"

"Cute," I said. "But I'm not talking about English."

"Neither am I," she said. "And we certainly aren't speaking it right now."

When it finally dawned on me that our lips weren't forming English syllables, I backed away in horror. She only laughed and folded up her laptop, waking away.

My mind was full of questions and unrest, but there was nothing I could do about it. I finished my coffee and got back on the phone.

In between calls, my mind just kept going back to that video I saw. That video of a blue creature writing my name on the wall, begging for help. What could it possibly mean?

A rude customer was serious entitlement delusions called in, smugly demanding his late fees waived for no good reason, so I put him on hold for over a minute. Asshole tax, I thought.

As it neared lunch time, and I was frantically typing memos on a previous customer's account while speaking to a new one about something equally complicated, I saw a light flashing on my monitor, this one reading GWarren.

"Log into AUX 4 and come see me," the message said.

AUX 4 is a code we put in the telephone to tell it we're busy and cannot take phone calls. Plus it tells payroll when you worked and when you took your unpaid lunch. When I was first hired as a trainee, I didn't use the AUX function at all, and some naive customer actually waited a full ten to fifteen minutes for me to pick up the phone.

Aux 4. Back office.

Great, I thought. What did I do now?

Was it really about the weird video? Or was that just some kind of prank?

My mind ran over the possibilities. Did I mess up a call? Did I tell a customer the wrong thing? Did I mess up an account?

"I told you I didn't touch the thing," I typed. It was a stretch, but it was my only guess, considering his earlier messages.

"We'll talk about it," Gary replied.

Why the back office? I thought, but I knew it was no use trying to get answers from Gary when he was like this.

I tried to log into Aux 4, but a call came in and it was a long one about billing issues.

I told him I was stuck, but would go back to meet him ASAP.

The customer argued that she paid on time every month on time, and shouldn't be punished for it, when she actually paid her bills a month late,and had been paying a month late for over a year. It took ten minutes for me to get that point across to her, and still it ended up being escalated to a supervisor. Only then could I escape my phone and comply with Gary's request.

"Sorry. I'm done," I typed.

He replied, "That's fine. Come see me and Christina in the back office."

Christina.

That doesn't sound good.

Gary never involved the head department manager in something unless I did something that could possibly result in me being fired.

I cringed.

With my shoulders slumped, and my head low, I nervously stumbled to the dreaded corner office with the glass window and the square metal desk with the fake wood top, avoiding eye contact with the frowning supervisors.

My skinny African American boss was leaning against a marker board along the back wall, the fluorescents glinting off his glasses. Ordinarily Gary is cool, but this situation set me on edge.

Christina is a young, severe looking blonde with long hair. She was always well dressed. Gold necklace, turquoise inlaid silver earrings, tasteful business attire, sharp white blouse with a vest.

We never met, except in bad circumstances. I frequently got in trouble with her at the previous department for sending poorly worded e-mails to customers and businesses. After the department closed, we met again when she didn't like my employee chat messages. I promised her I wouldn't send anything unless I had to, but I thought questions about Victor's device were fairly innocent. Maybe not.

Maybe, just maybe, she intended to fire me for keeping my chat messages purely cold and business-like.

Gary waved at a gray swivel chair on the employee side of the desk. "Have a seat."

And so I plopped into the ergonomic padding, staring at the fake grain in the simulation wood desk top.

I glanced up at Christina's chubby white face for a moment to read her expression, then looked down again.

"Gary tells me you've been in Victor's cubicle."

I frowned, shaking my head. "I didn't touch anything. I just watched a video."

A long pause followed this. I saw Gary and Christina exchanging knowing looks.

"And what did you see?"

I described it.

Another pause.

"What do you think it is?" Gary asked.

"I don't know," I stammered. "Some kind of prank? Why would my name be on the program like that? You got something planned for my birthday? Or is it a weird kind of video game?"

Pause.

"Just a moment."

I saw Christina march over to Gary, whispering something to him.

"Stay here," Gary said, and the two left him in the room.

I found it a tremendous relief that they were pulling me aside over something that nobody could logically fire someone about. The only thing that annoyed me was that my unscheduled break had to be done in the manager's office, where the coffee had to be purchased on the honor system, and I wasn't supposed to leave my chair.

I stared at the papers obscuring the faux oak surface; something about proprietary equipment, a disciplinary action form, and a handful of other threatening documents, deciding not to touch them for fear of making matters worse.

A sheet written in an unreadable foreign script tantalized me, but I resisted the temptation to pick it up.

The two managers re-entered the room with Gary looking a bit sheepish, Christina looking very cold and stern.

Christina's icy gaze bore straight through me as her mouth opened and words came out.

"At sprint we take our proprietary systems and entertainment software very seriously. We do not want anything of what we're doing here leaking to our competitors, and for this reason we have kept all information about this a secret from all entry level employees such as yourself. We don't want AT&T or Verizon learning about our new artificially intelligent programs, so we found the best way to do this is not tell frontline employees about it until we already had it in use and in stores. Now that you have been exposed to the product, you present a substantial risk to the financial security of this company. Because of this, we're going to ask you to sign a non-disclosure agreement."

She pulled out a sheet of paper, sliding it over the table with an accompanying pen.

As I stared at the sheet for a minute, I Gary say, "The form basically states that you agree to keep any and all information about the system a secret, and to not mention it to friends, family or (ahem) other coworkers, or face automatic termination and possible legal charges."

I could feel my face flush red. "How was I supposed to know I wasn't supposed to tell anyone about it?"

"It doesn't matter," said Christina. "We have the situation under control. So if you'd just sign and date this form near the bottom..."

I frowned at her. "Otherwise you'll not only fire me, but you'll also sue me?"

Gary sucked in his breath. "In a manner of speaking..."

"Only if you violate the terms of this agreement," Christina said with more finality.

"What do you mean, `in a manner of speaking'?"

"Well..." Gary stammered. "You won't need to worry about that if you don't tell anyone about the program."

Christina glanced at Gary, then turned her cold stare back to me.

I stared at the terms with bewilderment. It seemed to be saying something about reporting negatively to other employers. "You want me to sign something that allows you to blackball me?"

"Again, it's only if you don't follow the terms of the agreement."

I eyed her with suspicion. "This doesn't seem legal."

Gary sighed. "Do you want this job or not?"

Christina crossed her arms. "You can either sign the paper, or we can walk you out the door right now. Technically you have breached confidential business security by disclosing it to other employees. That's not something you want on your permanent record when you're out job hunting."

Dead silence.

The tension ran thick as they tensely waited for me to sign the paper. I scowled at the table.

It wasn't fair, I thought. I felt like suing them, but I had no lawyer, not enough money to get one, and nowhere else to go. I simply couldn't afford to sue the second biggest phone company in America.

I grabbed the paper and signed.

Christina took the paper away. "Thank you. You may go now."

Gary looked at his watch. "Isn't it about time for your lunch?"

And so I walked out, retrieving my meal from the crowded refrigerator.

I didn't see "Grace" anywhere, and would not see her again until the situation with the fender bender eventually came to a head.

As I sat in the break room, eating some rice and a bit of fish from last night's dinner, I took out a piece of paper, writing a note to the owner of the Snaker car.

I found Harry standing in his usual favorite spot, by the window, with a plastic bottle of homemade tea in hand, staring out the glass at whatever wildlife that happened to go by the parking lot.

Without turning, he said, "Gary told me you got in trouble for peeking at their new game console."

"Yeah," I stammered, leaving Harry to silently sip his tea.

"See any more invisible men?"

I frowned. "No."

My anxious worry about Snaker must have been visible on my face, for then he asked, "Are you feeling all right?"

"Yeah," I sighed. "Maybe I'm just tired."

"I have a cousin who's into parapsychology. You know, studying ghosts. She got in the paper one time. I think she's even published a book about it."

At the moment, I couldn't have cared less. "Huh. That's interesting."

"It takes talent to photograph them, but she's really good at it."

I only said "Hmm", glumly stuffing food in my mouth.

Once I finished eating, I gathered up as much courage as I could, marching out the double security door in search of the Trans Am.

I looked high and low, but still didn't see it among the rows of parked cars. I saw a car that looked similar to it, but that one didn't look dirty enough to be the one, and the license plate was wrong, so I went back inside.

When I returned to my desk, I saw no new activity in the chat, save for the usual banalities like "$200 payment, $$$."

And so the usual grind resumed. Lots of promises, sporadic payments, and lots of phone activations.

Bills, payment disputes, some guy trying really hard to get account information he wasn't allowed to have.

I took my final break for the day, checking the parking lot once more. No sign of the Trans Am.

When I came back, I found everyone had been assigned a training module. Another lame Power Point thing that told you all about the features on a new phone they were selling, without any details about what that does on the billing end. Pointless.

I wasn't sure why this device was okay to talk about, but the other one would ruin my chances at getting a job forever. That being said, I didn't mention it to anyone for fear that their threats would be carried out. Instead, I just silently completed the module and read a book while my neighbors in the other cubicles chewed the fat.

When my shift ended, I gathered my belongings and walked out, checking the lot one last time.

At last I saw the car.

The moment I'd tucked the note in a secure looking crack in Snaker's window, I felt my face slamming against the hot metal hood, my arm twisted painfully behind my back.

I saw a white glint, then noticed something sharp pressing against my neck.

A brown hand jabbed a finger at my car.

"That's your piece of shit yellow Corolla over there, isn't it, motherfucker?"

I swallowed and nodded.

"You know, it was just yesterday when I was thinking, `You know, I sure as hell hope that that dumb bastard with the yellow paint job doesn't do something stupid like try to get away with leaving my front fender headlight all fucked up, especially since we're working in the same damn building.' Judging by that bitty ass piece of paper you stuck in my window, it seems that my preliminary assumption is correct."


	6. Chapter 7: DOGOS

The knife had an unusual scimitar-like shape to it, with gold inlay, more like a valuable collectible than something you'd want to press against someone's throat.

"You know what I'm holding to your neck, motherfucker?"

I stammered no.

"This here is a Crysknife! Made from a genuine giant assed Arrakeen sandworm tooth! Legend has it that you can't resheathe this thing without whetting it with some kind of human blood. The question is, am I going to be putting a dab on it, or a whole fucking lot?"

"What do you want?" I gasped.

The guy had intolerable body odor, like he'd just spent hours sweating in a gym before coming to work to assault me. I didn't want to breathe more than I had to.

"Just the usual shit. Insurance information. That kind of thing. I wouldn't recommend any sudden moves. I'd hate to get blood all over my hood." He pulled me to my feet, shoving me against the windshield.

With one hand pressing the blade against the soft part of my neck, he reached up with his free hand, reading my note.

I sweated as I stared at the tattoos on the dark muscular arms that pinned me down.

"Jason Finch," he read. "Tweet tweet."

Feeling my assailant's grip relaxing, I tried to wiggle free, but the stranger noticed.

"Dammit! Didn't you hear a single word I said, motherfucker? Or do you have some kind of death wish?"

"Look, I gasped. "I'll pay for the damages. I wanted to do that anyway. Please. Please put that knife away."

Now he was breathing down my neck. "What, no insurance?"

"I got some," I gasped. "I don't want the premium to go up."

I felt the Crysknife pressing close to my skin. "Tell you what. You're going to pay my repair bill. Your crappy little car broke my front headlight and damaged the bumper, and I want it fixed. Got it?"

I would have nodded, but I didn't want to slice my own throat. "Yes," I cried. "How much do you want?"

The brown hand relaxed a little, slightly lowering the knife. "I'll have to get back to you on that. Is that phone number and other shit correct on this little note?"

I didn't want to "bleed a whole fucking lot", as he said, so I refrained from asking why the size of the paper really mattered. Instead, I just cried that I would do whatever he said.

"All right, then. I guess I'll have to tell you tomorrow."

The knife dropped away from view.

I stared at the stranger, finally getting a good look at him.

The guy reminded me of skinny killer aliens I've seen in science fiction movies, except he was completely terrestrial, like some absurd combination of an Ethiopian and a bulldog.

His bald shaven head reminded me somewhat of a football turned on its side. His cheeks were sunken, his eyes set deep in his skull, framed in dark circles, and there were bags beneath each one.

His loose hanging sleeveless sports jersey revealed a musculature like that of a basketball player. Lean, wiry arms that could just as easily kill instead of shoot free throws.

"Shit," the man said with a laugh. "I almost forgot."

I yelped in pain as I felt something sharp slicing into my neck.

"Damn, dawg! I forgot! There's still some Sapmux blood on that! Fuuuck, I'm sorry!"

"What!" I practically screamed at him. "What did you do?"

"I can't legally tell you what it is, but you might want to get a doctor to check that out. My bad. I'm sorry."

I frowned. "I think we crossed that `legal' line when you pulled a knife on me."

His eyes narrowed. "Now who did the hit and run, exactly? Don't make me pull my knife out again."

I swallowed. "That's fine. Whatever. Are we done? I think my neck's bleeding."

Snaker laughed. "Yeah. We done. I'll call you tomorrow or something."

Shaking my head, I ran back to the building, rushing into the restroom.

After soaking some paper towels and cleaning out the wound, I examined the cut in the mirror.

It seemed to only be a surface cut, a hair thin incision that didn't appear to touch anything vital. But it bled profusely, just the same. I held another paper towel to it, wondering when the bleeding would stop.

What the hell is a Sapmux anyway? I wondered.

Noting that the bleeding had showed signs of stopping, I grabbed a wad of paper towels, and got in my car.

I was able to drive with only slight difficulty, driving one handed for a few miles as I changed paper towels and checked to see if the towel was clean of blood. About ten minutes later, the bleeding seemed to stop, and I had uninterrupted use of both hands.

At last I arrived at my house.

The moment I stepped through the door, father said, "What happened to your neck?"

I used to go to karate, but I had stopped attending, or practicing. I really didn't want to be forced back into it by this ugly incident. It was bad enough when this kind of thing happened in high school.

"I..." I stammered. "I...fell down the stairs at work."

He frowned at me, but didn't comment.

My mother, who had been trimming the struggling dog's nails on the couch to him, let out a sharp hiss when she saw me. Sucking in her breath, she set down the clippers and poked the area around my neck. "That looks like a knife wound! What really happened?"

"I told you. I fell on the stairs. There was something sharp lying on one of the steps."

I could tell by her facial expression that she didn't buy it. "You should go to the hospital."

"No, it'll be fine. It's just a surface cut."

"It was the owner of that car you hit, wasn't it?" Dad growled.

I just gave him a pained glance. I really didn't want to go down this road with him.

"You should press charges against him. Call the police on him."

I shook my head. "Technically, I did a hit and run. I don't have much ground to stand on."

"But he cut you! That's not legal!"

"So is a hit and run. I don't want to report him because then he'll report on me. I don't want to get arrested."

"Oh you're so silly. You won't get arrested."

"Okay. Fined, then."

"You've got to report him."

"Look. I don't even remember his name, okay? I just know him as Snaker."

"But you can point him out in a lineup, right?"

"No, I didn't actually get a good look at his face."

She sighed and shook her head. "We put you in those karate classes for a reason."

"I know..."

"`Turn the other cheek'," Father sneered. "He's such a religious zealot that he lets everyone walk all over him. We all that money sending him through karate lessons and he doesn't even use it."

"We should sign him up again."

I swallowed. Karate isn't a hobby. It's a lifestyle. You can't do what the instructors want unless you devote huge amounts of your personal time practicing. Where would I have time for things that I wanted to do?

"I don't have time for that," I cried.

Why did I let myself get attacked? Because I was daydreaming at the time, and didn't expect someone to attack me from behind. That's why. And maybe because I am unhappy with the way my life is going, and didn't care.

"Don't have time? What the hell are you doing besides making those dribblings in your room?"

I shook my head in frustration, thinking about how I'd have to reduce my life to nothing but work, karate and sleep. I shuddered as I remembered spending hours in the cramped basement practicing elaborate dances that seemed to do nothing to do with self defense.

"It'll be fine!" I shouted.

"Yes! You'll be fine once we sign you back up for karate!"

"Dammit, no! Listen!" I yelled. Then, not wanting to offend my dad by raising my voice again, I blurted, "The guy will leave me alone once I pay him the damage."

Mom clicked her tongue and shook her head. "You're really scaring me. I hope everything will turn out all right..."

"`Turn the other cheek'," Dad spat. "That money was a waste!"

So I own a brown belt. So what.

Twenty eight and still living with my parents.

A college degree in art, but no career, just a lame customer service job at a call center.

No girlfriend. No wife.

Embarrassing sleepwalking problems.

I should have let my neck bleed.

With a frustrated sigh, I stomped upstairs, searching for bandages. When I couldn't find the right kind, I called mom up to help, but she brought me gauze and a maxi pad.

"I'm not wearing that," I protested.

"What. It absorbs blood."

I frowned at her.

"You don't have to wear it outside."

I groaned in frustration. "I'm not doing that. Is there something else I can use instead?"

Rolling her eyes, she brought me some paper towels.

Sighing, I dressed the wound with the items, backing in my room to avoid further embarrassment.

After illustrating an excessively violent series of comic illustrations, I came down and cooked supper. It wasn't fish this time, but dad wasn't upstairs, so I had to go tell him it was time to eat.

He liked to fast a lot. He'd be so obsessed with working on something that he'd get angry when we suggested eating a meal, but then he would eat a raw hot dog or a box of donuts some time later.

I dreaded going into the basement. Dad spent all day and night on the computer chasing down phantom viruses, downloading programs and trying ineffectively to type the wrong product keys into the wrong programs. I'd spent hours trying to help him get the icons on an LP recording program to appear on his desktop, but after an hour of trying, dad "solved" the problem by ordering yet another copy of the same exact program. I shuddered to think what would happen to my mother's credit card.

I'm pretty sure I'm going to end up with a 100,000 bill as an inheritance, of that I feel certain.

I once told mother about my concerns, but it only resulted in dad being ridiculous and telling me he wasn't spending any money each and every time he entered the basement. Yet he would enter his credit card on all kinds of websites a week later.

This time he was doing a virus scan because the icons on his computer were too large for him to see the dirty pictures. After spending about eight minutes discovering that it was a simple operation you did with a right mouse click, we marched up to the dining room.

As we ate, dad started back in on griping about me getting attacked, and mom joined in. They sounded like broken records, beating the proverbial dead horse in a vast variety of different ways while I just silently glared at the table.

After too much thought on my part, I at last came across a solution. I talked shop.

They lost interest, eating silently as they watched TV.

Once done with the meal, I set about the usual activities, washing the dishes with an SOS pad to humor my father and compensate for the empty sink and dishwasher.

Dad noticed me doing this and he started to gripe about that again. "I'll just wash it again in the dish washer!" he grumbled. At least we weren't talking about karate anymore.

He got so annoyed that he kicked me out of the kitchen.

When I touched the makeshift bandage on my neck, I noticed that it was wet with blood. I wanted to check my bathroom for additional bandages, but Troy, my brother, was in the way.

He had to have his ritual, one where he tied up both the upstairs hallway and the bathroom with his scalding hot water and industrial sized bottle of antibacterial soap.

While the water ran in the empty bathroom, he'd bolt out into the hallway, soaping up his hands with an inconveniently positioned two liter bottle of antibacterial soap. This ritual took roughly eight or ten minutes.

Frustrated, I sat down on a recliner and stared at an NCIS marathon.

Imagine my surprise when, after pulling out the footrest, I uncovered a homemade bow and a quiver of arrows hidden beneath the mechanism.

I quickly shoved them deeper in the chair and folded the footrest down.

I pretended I hadn't seen it, thinking I would go a day without a mentioning of my weird sleepwalking habits, but then, the moment I heard the dishwasher coming to life, I see dad holding up a crude wreath made from wire, sweetgum balls, and some kind of animal bones.

"Is this one of your art projects, or were you sleepwalking again?"

Not wanting to go the head shrinker again, I lied and said it was an art project.

"Why was this in the dishwasher?"

I swallowed. "I...wanted it to be really clean."

Dad frowned at me, but he seemed to believe it. After all, one time I left a Target poster out in the rain and dirt and laminated it.

"If you break the dishwasher, you're buying us a new one," he growled. And then he walked away.

My brother finished up, so I was finally able to go to the bathroom.

I looked in my medicine cabinet, but didn't see any bandages in there, so I checked the one in mom's bathroom.

Noticing my predicament, mom handed me the bandages she had, small finger bandages not designed for a horizontal neck wound, but I decided to put three of them on anyways, to keep the wound closed.

I spent the rest of the evening waiting for the wound to heal as I went about my normal activities.

The next morning when I woke up, I found a crude map of my neighborhood carved into my closet door, complete with markings I could only assume to be street names, or descriptions. None of it was in English.

Not too terribly surprised, I shrugged it off, preparing myself for work.

I drove to the building with a bandage on my neck.

With my checkbook in pocket, ready to pay the damages on Snaker's car, I searched the parking lot, but in vain. Seeing no car, I could only assume that the creep worked the evening shift and carry on my business as usual.

It was an average work day aside from people asking why I had the bandage.

Afraid that the Snaker guy had friends, I lied and said I was trying my hand at wood carving. When someone questioned the excuse, I told them I had an accident while helping dad with a construction project in the basement. When pressed further, I told them the circular saw slipped at the same time I did, and I was lucky it didn't cut an artery.

I got looked at funny when I said this, probably because it implied abuse. It shut them up, at any rate.

I guess I accidentally threw my dad under the bus with that one, but it was either that or getting a second cut.

I felt normal as I stepped into the building that day, like the wound on my neck had been a mere paper cut or something.

Okay, so maybe I was lying to myself, forcing myself not to pay attention to that funny twinge in my neck, or the odd spasms occurring from time to time.

I thought I felt fine when I took the first call, but after the third and forth ones, I began to feel a tightness in my chest, like I wasn't getting enough oxygen.

My heart raced erratically, thundering out of control, regardless of how many deep breaths I took.

Desperate for a medical answer, I Googled Sapmux on my computer, but only found a website full of randomly assembled letters advertising cheap prescription Cialis. Likewise, a search for the Crysknife only brought up a Frank Herbert fan page.

Convinced I had instead contracted tetanus, I researched the facts on that one instead.

A caller came in as I was reading about the jaw stiffness and difficulty swallowing, two things I actually was experiencing.

I slopped through the, gasping for air, without the slightest concern for collecting a payment or keeping a perfect script.

I kept thinking, _I'm going to die. I'm going to die_.

Fever and rapid heart rate. Check.

I felt dizzy. Light headed. I felt like I had difficulty breathing.

Someone behind me was talking about a girl who got fired for cussing on the phone. Apparently, just an hour before, during an informal potluck I had not been invited to, she had made everybody hold hands and join her in a table prayer. As amusing as it all was, I was not in a mood for mirth.

When I clutched my chest, nobody seemed to have the slightest concern. They were too busy taking calls.

Throughout the whole time, nobody around me had bothered to say a word about my condition. I supposed they would have noticed if I fell on the floor, but not until then. Besides, how long would _that_ have taken?

As I continued addressing customers, I felt my pulse fluctuate, heart rate increasing to a point where I felt the need to get more and more air.

I'd experienced these heart palpitations before, so I figured I could just wait for it to pass, as I'd done previously. After all, it wasn't frequent, normally only one time per year, if that.

I used my inhaler, but all it did was make me see stars.

I kept telling myself it was nothing. That I'd just look like a hypochondriac slob who randomly calls in sick whenever there's a sunny day outside.

I leaned against my desk like an overweight coronary patient, fighting to keep up the professional facade as I felt life slipping away from me. Each call felt like an eternity as my pulse thundered in my head.

"I don't have an attitude problem." I heard someone saying loudly. "I don't. Ma'am, you didn't let me finish. I said I don't have an attitude problem. You're the one with an attitude." After a pause, she continued. "Ma'am, if you don't like my attitude, you can hang up right now."

I was Zia, in the row behind me.

Zia seemed to spend a great deal more time on the carpet talking than she did sitting in her seat taking calls. On the phone, she was rude. Off the phone, she alternated between telling her life story, preaching about Jesus, and participating in discussions about the thirty eight sexual positions.

How she kept her job was a mystery.

Occasionally, she'd eat a handful of baby powder and complain about her phosphorus deficiency.

She was black, sounded and acted like an old lady, but had not a shred of gray hair, and she considered Kanye West "classical R&B".

As I felt the end of my life drawing nearer and nearer, the thought occurred to me that all the work I did for the company was meaningless, and that all the polite, quality customer service I had provided will simply disappear, replaced by Zia, and no one will care.

Well, I was dying. I didn't care, either.

Nothing mattered. Not even the stupid animal cartoons I'd spent half my life working on. Up to this point, my art hadn't seen the light of day, and it seemed it never would. What had I gotten for posting nine hundred comic pages on those art websites? Nothing. A few compliments here and there. Complaints. I wasted my life.

As thoughts about dying from a heart attack filled my mind, I handled the calls with only the slightest concern for customer satisfaction. I could see myself dying while talking to the customer. Great employee to the end, they'd say. He stayed at his post to the very end.

I kept thinking about the scene in Wrath of Khan where James Doohan discovers the corpse of the chief engineer and praises him for sticking to his job. "He stayed at his post when the others left."

"I'm calling about my bill," said a voice on the phone. "Why are these charges so high?"

I wheezed through the details of the man's bill with careless detachment, hoping against hope that he'd leave me in peace.

My neck throbbed like something were trying to get out.

I went to the bathroom to assess the damage.

It seemed the wound had worsened. What had begun as a narrow red slit now hung open like a flap, as if I had suddenly grown a single gill on the right side of my neck.

I shuddered, applying fresh bandages to it.

I returned to the phones, trying to do my job the best I could. I figured if it were the last thing I'd ever do, I should make it count.

When the next caller came on the phone, I tried to push him off the phone as quickly as I could, but he was a bore that liked to complain, so I clammed up and let him blabber on and on endlessly until he realized I wasn't reacting. Talking took too much effort anyway, so I just dully let his words wash over me as meaningless sound.

The instant messenger informed me of a tornado alert. "Everyone log out of your phones," it said.

Relieved, I hit the After Call button, fighting a bit more strongly to get the customer off the phone without telling him about the tornado. About five long minutes later, I succeeded, logging out of the phone.

"Go to the meeting room," the message had said.

Meeting room? I thought as I got up. Which meeting room?

Taking nothing with me, I turned and followed after some straggling employees.

The meeting room stood in a back hallway, a stuffy, dirty little unused room with no windows and a dozen barren desks and broken swivel chairs. The air was stale and didn't seem to circulate.

This reprieve from the phones offered me no comfort.

I seated myself, regarding my fellow tornado refugees with a dull glassy stare.

While the people around me listened to their weather radios and cel phones, I just gazed at them, thinking they'd be the last faces I'd ever see, and nobody seemed to care that my chest felt tight and my heartbeat felt irregular.

A blonde girl sat on the floor next to me, watching a tornado report on her phone. A bald black guy with a wide fish mouth stood and watched Christina as she plugged in a weather radio, setting it on a chair.

The sounds of chattering coworkers and monotone weather announcers flooded into my ears as trifling noise. The passing minutes felt like years crawling by.

"What's wrong with your neck?" a dark skinned girl with slicked back hair asked as she stared at me.

The girl's face had brown coloration, elongated features, hair pinned up in back, eyebrows set in a permanent glare like some kind of Vulcan. She wore a dark jacket with a bunchy waist, a blouse, and tight charcoal leggings that didn't appear to be dress code approved.

"It's nothing," I forced myself to say.

I still felt like I couldn't get enough air, and speaking stole precious oxygen.

"I just...cut myself somehow...this morning. Shaving. It's fine."

I didn't feel like telling the whole story. Not enough air, and she probably didn't care anyway.

My pulse still hadn't slowed.

"Okay!" the girl said in a sing-songy tone.

She shrugged and took out her cel phone. The same brand I collected payments on all day.

While grateful not to be on a call, I had absolutely nothing to occupy my thoughts except my mortality. No books or games or anything.

The minutes crept by with agonizing slowness, filled with the sounds of coworkers I had little or no attachment to, chatting amongst themselves or breathlessly absorbing the radio reports spewing out of the mouths of bored weathermen.

I stood up, hoping it would slow my racing pulse to a tolerable level.

As I stood with my coworkers staring at me, it felt like the entire room had been grabbed by the tornado, rapidly rotating around me in a blur.

With a faint moan, I clutched my pounding chest, falling to the floor.

Silvery specks swam across my field of vision as I heard a voice asking me if I were enjoying himself down there on the carpet.

The room, the building, changed colors, from purple to green to orange and then like a sickly washed out photograph of reality.

The events which followed came to me in a muted fog.

Worried coworkers standing over me.

Gary's face leaning over my head, asking if I'm all right, but I couldn't answer the question coherently.

Other people asking the same question.

"You want me to call 9-1-1?" I heard Christina asking.

"I'm not sure that's a good idea, " Gary muttered. "Look at that wound. If the EMT's see that discoloration and swelling, there's going to be some questions."

"What do you suggest, then?"

He shrugged. "Let's take him down to the lab and see what Sally can do for him."

Discoloration and swelling? I thought. Lab? Sally? Why can't they let an EMT look at me? What the hell is going on?

Sadly, I was feeling too bad to resist.

Still half out of it, I flailed my arms in a pathetic attempt to escape as they grabbed my shoulders and feet, carrying me out the door.

I thought I heard the girl in the bunchy jacket asking about me, but Gary just said I was having an epileptic fit combined with a panic attack, and I just needed to lay down.

I guess I was making random outbursts during this episode, because she asked about the strange sounds I was making. Gary replied that I was delirious.

However, I overheard Christina muttering about "informing Grace about the tongues."

I blacked out.


	7. Chapter 8: Processing

When I awoke, I found myself lying naked on a padded bench in some big decompression tank.

The place reminded me of a submarine, a big cylindrical structure lined with pipes and gauges, and, oddly enough, a LCD plasma TV. The whole chamber had a faint, lingering smell of vomit.

It was cold. About seventy degrees or less. And I could see every goosepimple on my body.

I wasn't sure why I was naked. I didn't know if it were simply another sleepwalking incident, or if I had been stripped.

Seeing my clothing tossed haphazardly on floor near a submarine hatch, I climbed off the bench, staggering sideways as the room started spinning.

Once I'd spent a full five minutes leaning against a wall, my vertigo cleared a bit, and I could finally make myself decent.

Fully clothed, I sat down on the bench, staring at my surroundings.

There wasn't much to look at. Just a bunch of rusty pipes. The walls were a flat gray, and there were no windows anywhere.

After about ten minutes, I'd practically memorized every bolt, screw and rivet. I laid back on the mattress, staring up at the concave ceiling.

I didn't get it. I just got poisoned by a psycho with a knife. Why wouldn't they let me out of there?

I felt the urge to go to the bathroom, an urge that got worse as I lay there and waited for someone to get me out, but no one came, and I didn't see a toilet anywhere.

It felt like it were sometime after lunch. Normally I could go about that long without a toilet break, but not much longer. I'm not the crude sort that pees on walls, so I felt I had to get out soon.

I tried the door, but the giant wheel only turned a few degrees before making a noisy clank and stopping.

I returned to the bench and stared at the TV.

Sportscenter, I thought. Why did it have to be Sportscenter?

I didn't see a remote anywhere, so I passed the time staring at it, dully absorbing facts about retirements and sports injuries until Jim Rome came on and started talking about basketball.

I laid down and stared at the screen long enough to start wondering why Jim Rome's right ear looked so misshapen.

The television program had changed at least three times already, but I couldn't gauge time with it because I didn't watch ESPN enough to memorize the lineup, and I didn't know how to convert Eastern Standard time to Central.

I watched a boring documentary on the inventors of a protein bar, then something about a successful female Hispanic politician, but didn't want to sleep for fear of peeing on myself.

Hearing someone knocking on metal, I walked over to the hatch, eagerly hoping that somebody would open it.

"Hello?"

"Are you decent?" a voice called.

"Yeah!" I yelled back.

I heard the sounds of something clanking, and then the submarine door swung open, revealing a bald narrow figure with sloping shoulders, with a stack of white card stock in his hand.

Gary.

My manager's slack features reflected no surprise or amusement, as if he handled situations like this all the time.

I could tell by Gary's faraway looks that he had selected the channel.

"You're lucky they didn't shred your clothes," Gary said as he marched over to the bench. "These guys are licensed paramedics."

He laughed.

I just gawked at him.

Gary straightened the stack of paper. "I'm going to show you a series of pictures," he said, raising the top sheet on the stack. "I want you to tell me what they are."

I stared at the paper. It looked like a photograph of a wallpaper stain. "What do you see?"

I rolled my eyes. "An inkblot test? Seriously?"

"I want to know if you're disoriented or brain damaged in any way. Humor me."

I frowned. "It's ugly wallpaper."

"Yes, but what does the ugly wallpaper look like?"

"A boat with a face on it. It has a hat."

"Good." He flashed another card.

"Venus de Milo with a happy face for a head."

He showed me another.

"A mouse with a baseball cap, and a pipe for a body."

For the next one, I said, "The letter E."

He looked at me with this shocked expression that made me wonder if he planned to attempt medical treatment. "Is that really what you see?"

I shrugged. "I don't know, but I keep thinking it's an E, even when it's shaped wrong."

"Just free associate and tell us what you think it is."

"It's the letter E."

He shook his head, setting the cards down.

"This place smells like puke," I said.

"Oh right," he laughed. "Sometimes we put Vincent in here when he gets too much to drink."

I rolled my eyes.

"I've got some bad news, I'm afraid," he said.

He just left that sentence hanging.

I stared at him in horror. "I'm going to die?"

He burst out laughing. "No. No, Jason. You're not going to die."

He propped a foot up on the rubber mattress, leaning on his leg. "Look, uh, you're not really supposed to know about some of the stuff that you know about, and that's...not good. So, uh, you're going to have to stay here for a few days."

I swallowed, gawking at him. "Are you kidding?"

Gary responded also by swallowing, then shook his head. "I'm really sorry about this, but you've been exposed to some..._information_ of a sensitive nature, and I have to take this matter up with H.R., which unfortunately won't be in until Wednesday. If you have any relatives or _significant others_ that might be worrying about you, I can give you a phone, but you're going to have to promise not to mention anything about our operation."

I narrowed my eyes. "What's there to tell? Some nut sliced my neck open with some kind of poisoned knife, and you're very secretive with your telephone equipment."

Gary stared at me, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "All right. Here's what we're going to do. I'm going to give you a phone to use to call..._whoever you want_ and tell them you're okay."

_Significant others. Whoever I want._ His choice of words and the tone of his voice seemed to be implying that I was a queer.

"Any calls you make will be recorded," he continued. "If I hear one word about anything..._unusual_...It'll be the last call you'll be making for a very long time."

"What?" I said. "You'll kill me?"

He chuckled. "No, but you'll find that things will quickly become a lot more _unusual_, as you'll be spending a terrific amount of quality time down here."

I frowned. "Let's say I accidentally blab something. I'm not saying I will, but what if something slips out and I don't realize I...violated the agreement until it's too late?"

Gary shrugged. "It all depends on what you blabbed. We'll figure out what disciplinary measures to take once we evaluate the severity of the breach."

I was about to open my mouth to ask another question, but Gary interrupted me. "Keep in mind that your actions don't just affect you. If we find that the person you're contacting has learned something they're not supposed to, they're not going to be the same when we're finished with them."

I gulped. "What are you going to do to them?"

Gary coughed. "Nothing if you can keep your mouth shut. I really don't want to do anything if I don't have to. But we have in in the past given certain people a..._bit of amnesia. _They kinda forgot to pay the light bill and their kid stayed at daycare the whole night."

I laughed, but Gary looked completely serious.

It didn't seem so funny anymore.

"Do I get paid overtime for this?" I asked.

Gary frowned. "Technically, we have to, which makes this situation even more awkward."

"Well that's good. At least I'm getting paid."

"You can think that way if it makes you feel better, but you technically are on salary right now."

I rubbed my face in frustration. "Can't you, I don't know, figure out a way to resolve this faster? At least not make me sit down in this tank for a whole week?"

Gary crossed his arms. "This is a delicate situation. We can't just make a snap decision because this is going to have some very long term effects."

I slumped back in the rubber mattress. "Great."

"Hold on," Gary said, digging a cel phone out of his pocket. He dialed a number, holding the phone to his ear for a moment before shutting it off.

"Dammit. No reception."

He gave me an apologetic shrug. "I completely forgot." He sighed as he frowned at the little screen. "Hold up. I'll get you a phone."

And he walked out, shutting the door behind him.

The only thing I could figure was that he forgot to pay his bill, or his phone was truly terrible. Of course, I wasn't sure why a guy who ran a telephone collections department would forget such a thing.

After another long wait, the hatch came open again.

"All right. This will have to do," Gary said. "Come over here."

I walked to the door, staring out at the room beyond.

I saw a concrete tunnel of cinder block construction, with a shiny floor running parallel to the tank. Someone had blocked off some of the hallways with marker boards, chairs and file cabinets. Above were the standard drab corporate style ceiling tiles and fluorescents.

A long phone cord had been stretched along the shiny concrete floor, a standard Avaya phone positioned taut at the end, the cable apparently stretched to its limit.

"There you go," said Gary. "Same thing you got upstairs. Dial 9 to get the number, just like usual. Again, it's monitored."

With a sigh, I picked it up and dialed.

Although the screen was set on military time, I calculated it to be four P.M., a good two and a half hours after my shift.

"Am I getting overtime for all this?" I asked.

"Uh...we'll discuss that later once we figure out what to do with you." Gary said.

"Please tell me you're planning something legal."

Gary burst out laughing, slapping his knee. "What do you think we were going to do? Force you to saw your own leg off?"

I didn't laugh, dampening dampened Gary's mirth.

With one last forced chuckle, he said, "we're not going to hurt you."

I dialed out. Mom picked up.

Immediately after I had said hello, I noticed Gary mouthing words to me. "I'm going to be working late tonight."

'Um, listen," I told her. " I...I'm going to be a little late tonight."

"How late?"

I saw Gary cringe in response.

The phone allows you to mute a call, so I did.

I scowled at my boss. "You're not seriously going to keep me in here for a whole week, are you?"

He paused for more than a minute. "I really shouldn't be doing this, but I'll give you a break. Just this once."

I sighed in relief. "So what do I tell her, then?"

"Tell her four hours," he muttered.

I took the phone off mute. "Four hours."

I did a double take. "Four hours!" I hissed. "I'm not sitting in this isolation tank for four hours!"

"You're getting paid," Gary shrugged.

"Oh," I stammered. "Can you at least bring me the stuff from my desk?"

"Sure. What did you want me to get?"

"My coat and the backpack from the bottom drawer. Oh, and get me my lunch from the fridge. Do you have a bathroom?"

"Hold on. I'll you taken care of."

Hearing confused conversation on the other end of the phone, I said, "Sorry, mom. Yes, it's going to be four hours."

"Hello? Are you there?"

"Oh great." I took the phone off mute, repeating myself.

"Well, at least you're getting paid extra," she said.

"I hope so." I shook my head.

"All riight. By the way, we're running out of toilet paper. Can you bring some home on the way back?"

I shuddered to think what my dad was doing without any. Things could quickly get disgusting.

I hung up.

"We're trying to get this thing settled ASAP," said Gary. "Just sit tight, and we'll get you taken care of."

"Bathroom?" I prompted.

"I'll get you something for that. Hold on." And he gestured for me to get back in the chamber.

Frowning, I stepped back in and squeezed my bladder muscles, hoping I wouldn't have an accidental spill.

The door closed, and I waited. And waited.

After sitting through an entire basketball highlights program, I saw Gary lugging in an aluminum urinal with a hose trailing from the back end.

He carried this thing to a wall panel, hooking the tube to something inside the wall.

"There you go. I hope you don't need number two, because brought the wrong one for that."

"That's fine," I sighed. "Just bring my stuff down, okay? My lunch is in the fridge in the corner. It's macaroni and it's in a Gladware container."

"All right. Be back in a few."

And he shut the door.

"A few" turned out to be the length of an entire program. I used the urinal and stared at the program, absorbing more information on the Big 12 Conference than I ever wanted to know. I decided right then that I'd get a remote from him when he returned.

The hatch came open, and I saw Gary bringing all my things, my bag, my lunch and coat.

The first thing I did was dig into my cold mac and cheese, thankful to even be able to eat something.

"Won't be much longer," Gary said, walking to the door.

"Wait," I blurted. "How do you change the channel?"

But Gary was already outside, slamming the hatch shut.

With a sigh, I kept eating, digging out my book to read while I ate.

He got through the six hundredth page before Gary came in again. "Come with me."

Swallowing, I got up, following Gary out the hatch, and down the left hand tunnel, past rows of closed office doors and drab walls unadorned with anything but corporate grade number plaques and framed inspirational posters about teamwork.

Gary knocked on a door, and I found myself staring at that Augustine woman again.

She looked very stern. A sharp difference from the peppy strangeness I had encountered previously.

She let us in, Gary shutting the door with a loud click behind us.

"Have a seat," said the woman.

With a shrug, I did so.

After a long silence, whispering, and dramatic shuffling of papers, the woman said, "Mr. Finch, you are in an unfortunate situation. You've been exposed to sensitive materials relating to a project we frankly did not want you involved in. While we found your attendance record exemplary, we find the quality of your work itself only average."

Gary leaned over my chair. "Ironically enough, if we move you to a different department, Sprint will lose money. You're actually doing a decent job. At least, for what is expected at Sprint. No offense, but you're more of a `meets,' rather than `exceeds,' type of employee."

The woman nodded. "You display none of the special traits we are currently seeking for any of our positions in this department, which leaves us with a difficult decision. We don't especially want to add you to this department, but we can't easily send you on your way either."

"We can make you promise until you turn blue," said Gary. "But you're human. You're going to slip up eventually."

"So that leaves us the option of a memory wipe," said Ms. Augustine. "But the process is cost prohibitive. Especially when it could impact the way you perform at Sprint."

"The only problem is, it's not what our other client is looking for. You're going to have to...make some changes."

"Changes?" I swallowed. "Like what?"

The two manager stared at each other, Gary leaning backwards on a blackboard.

"Compared to the memory wipe," Gary said. "Training is cheap. And it has less undesirable side effects. Less stories."

"You have three options," Grace said. "One, agree to a memory wipe. Two, you join NCO-DOGOS, or three, walk away, and we'll blacklist you from every pitiful job you're actually qualified to work with."

"Which isn't much, by the way. You really can't do much with an art degree. I've seen your resume."

I paled. "What if I...falsified a few details because I'm overqualified for this job?"

Gary laughed. "Mr. Finch, if you were holding out on us, we'd know. If your social was there, we were there."

The room suddenly felt really cold.

"So...you're promoting me," I ventured.

"Not...exactly," said Gary. "Sprint still needs you on their project."

Ms. Augustine nodded. "It's more like a little side duty."

"A lateral move," Gary agreed. "We can't afford to put you on full time, so we've devised a rotating one day shift schedule where you fill in on an as needed basis."

I briefly wondered how he found the time to come up with all of this, but then I realized there might have been a reason why I had been forced to sit in that tank so long.

I still had difficulty processing all of this. "As needed?"

He only gave me a dismissive wave. "We'll fill you in on all the details later. Basically what you need to know right now is that you're going to work for a company called RPS Incorporated. That's what you'll tell anyone who asks where you work. RPS does collections for Citibank, Kohls, and an assortment of small furniture companies that have offered a line of credit cards."

I just stared at him with my mouth hanging open, not believing the ridiculous information I was being told. Furniture. Citibank. And somehow Crysknives and weird phone devices have something to do with it.

"That's the cover story."

"Oh."

Gary took a deep breath. "That's all I can tell you until orientation. You'll need to sign some non-disclosure forms and take some tests before we go any further."

"Speaking of which..." The woman slid me a stack of papers.

They were page upon page of warnings about restrictions on electronic communications, the restriction of sharing of customer account information with third parties, the usual stuff you'd be forced to sign at any customer service or collections job. No stranger to this sort of thing, I signed the familiar ones without a second's thought.

It was the unfamiliar ones that gave me trouble.

I stared at a sheet telling me I basically can't tell anyone I know about a lot of things I couldn't understand, such as the list of strangely named policies that I was supposed to "understand" before I signed the paper, the Babcock-Foster Policy being the most prevalent.

I pointed to the paper. "What's this?"

"It basically says that you are not to tell anyone about what we discussed here, or how you spent the last seven hours, or other items related to the DOGOS company."

"So what am I supposed to tell them?"

"It's your responsibility to come up with a convincing cover story. I suggest telling others outside the company that you were just working late. Technically it's true. But for the people that saw you collapse, I'd tell them you had a panic attack, and that your medication needs to be adjusted."

Shaking my head in frustration, I returned my attention to the mound of paper, squinting at the innumerable blocks of legalese until my eyes glazed over.

Giving up trying, I signed and dated all the rest of the papers.

"We'll let you know when it's time for orientation," Gary said as he picked them up. "Just continue what you were doing and we'll pull you off the phone."

He gestured to the door.

Scrunching up my face, I crept over that way, staring at him.

"Oh. Right," Gary laughed. "Let me show you out."

And so I got up, following him out to the hallway.

Muttering something about blindfolds, he led me past the doors, past some plain looking offices, then up a staircase situated right in the middle of an unoccupied grid of cubicles boxed in with fences of upholstered plywood.

I'd seen the place before. During my breaks, I sometimes would get bored and look through the little window at the end of the cramped hallway around the corner of the Sprint call center, and see this dead little office with nobody in it.

Now I knew why. It was a facade.

"Can I get my stuff?" I said as we approached the door with the little window.

"I almost forgot," Gary laughed. "Here. Let's go this way."

And so we marched back down the stairs, turning down gray corridors until we arrived at the decompression tank.

After retrieving my things, we returned to the empty call center, strolling out the door and down the narrow hallway to the Citibank call center adjacent to our office. The people there didn't know me, and only a couple remained after four, so they paid me no heed.

In the Sprint office, I noticed my regular coworkers had gone for the day. A few familiar faces still manned the phones, but they looked too busy to chat at the moment.

Gary took a deep breath. "See you tomorrow!"

"Tomorrow," I groaned.

As I at last stumbled out to my car, I again found my face being slammed against the hood of a car.

"I just got the repair estimate," a voice growled in my face. "You didn't forget our little discussion, did you?"

I knew it was going to happen. I just didn't think Snaker would have the patience to wait outside all day until the boss let me go.

As I felt the hot metal burning my face, I reflected that this guy had some serious trust issues.

"Relax!" I blurted. "Let me get my checkbook!"

He let go of me. "Where is it?"

I dug it out of my bag, writing him a check for the damages.

To my great relief, the bill wasn't that much. For a scary mentally imbalanced thug, he was pretty honest when it came to money.

Still, he wasn't the type of person I really wanted to hang out with. I dislike anyone prone to sudden aggressive mood swings.

When I got home, I stepped through the door with the expectation that they'd want to hear the good news about the fender bender.

Instead, my dad berated me for several minutes about carving "artwork" on my closet door. And then he told me to clean all the poop out of the garage where we keep our dogs.

Of course, I couldn't just spray the garage out. He made me go back through with a broom and a mop, and he carefully examines the floor each pass to see if I've missed any spots.

As I'm mopping, he suddenly goes outside, and he yells at me until I drop what I'm doing and go out there to help him. And then when I'm closing the garage back up, he dumps almost an entire bottle of bleach down there, to the point where I'm nearly gagging.

I'm not sure why this causes me to have a flashback. Maybe it's the fumes, but suddenly I'm seeing a group of blue figures in loincloths crouching on a rock outcrop. I stagger backwards, leaning on the staircase railing, and the vision is gone.

At last I'm done. I go about my usual business until dinner time.

Mom noticed that the cut on my neck looked a lot better than it had the day before. I guessed that was because of whatever medical technicians they had at this strange "DOGOS" place, but I really couldn't say that, so I just said that I visited the Minute Clinic on the way home.

From experience, I've learned that the only treatment that CVS clinic does is refer you to your regular doctor and tell you they can't treat you, but it was either tell her that, or tell her the wound healed on its own.

For dinner I made chili. Seeing that dad wasn't being a busybody anymore, and wasn't in front of the TV, I figured he could be in only one place, other than the bathroom.

Down in the basement, with his computer and the internet.

When I went down there to alert him about supper, I found the door locked.

I knocked and told him about supper, and he said he'd be up in a minute.

I knew from experience I didn't want to see what he was doing.

Eventually, he came up, we had supper, and I returned to my "cave."

About half an hour later, I heard him shouting, "Jason! Can you help me with something?"

With a sigh, I stepped down through the garage to the basement to see what had happened.

"I moved this folder, and now the icons are too small so I can't see what they are."

And so I showed him how to resize image icons of naked fat women. I wasn't sure I had done a good thing, or been merely acting as an enabler.

I didn't want to hang around, for obvious reasons, so I went back upstairs.

Not too long afterwards, when mom had gone to sleep, he called me down again.

Now he wanted me to help him reset his e-mail password for the thousandth time. He never could get a good grip on those passwords. Or the fact that a temporary password is supposed to be temporary.

It's likely that the reason why those scrambled internet reset pages are so unreadable when you go to get one is because they have to keep making new ones for my dad. I had to go through five of them before I could find a secret code with legible letters on it.

The worst part is being forced to not use the phone so he can be ready for those damned automated telephone password resets.

The rest of the evening was basically uneventful. For some reason, I awoke clothed, and nothing seemed to be out of place.

The next day, however, didn't seem to be real to me at all.

Right after I got in the office, I found an overturned sheet of paper sitting on my keyboard.

When I turned it over, I found only a note in tiny print saying not to log in, to report directly to the back office. So I tried to do so.

After wandering the building aimlessly and checking the wrong offices, I eventually found that the office door near the security entrance had been left open, a rarity at six A.M.

I stepped inside.

The room had no label, just a number. 3A. I'd never seen the interior of this room before. The door is normally always locked shut, and I just assumed that they only kept janitor supplies inside it.

It actually contained a small office with a desk, a computer, a drab markerboard, and shiny wooden cabinets. Both the cabinets and the walls were made of some sort of cherry colored wood, possibly mahogany.

I found a strange looking man in a white shirt and tie sitting behind the desk. He looked like an average guy, white, pointy nosed, with short cropped blonde hair, but his ears looked funny. Pointy and covered in fur, they looked like someone had grafted a German shepherd's ears to the sides of his head.

"Um, hi," I stammered.

"Jason?"

He nodded. "Yeah?"

"I'm Mr. Vuembi. I'm from H.R. Please. Have a seat."

Vuembi. It sounded African. But he didn't look African.

I nervously slipped into the chair across from the desk.

I couldn't help but grin at the funny ears.

"What's... going on?" I stammered.

"Before we begin, I need to remind you of the non-disclosure agreement. You are in no way to discuss the events of the previous day, what we were about to discuss today, or my ears, with outsiders, or risk termination and black balling."

He pushed a small packet of stapled papers across the desk. "Sign these."

With a sigh, I did what I was told. "So what's this about?"

"Are you going to be busy at all the next fourteen days? Any pressing engagements?"

I go to the movies with my best friend on the weekends. Other than that, I don't have a life.

"Not really," I shrugged. "I was just going to hang out with my friend. Why? You want me to work some overtime?"

"In...a manner of speaking."

"Is it required?"

Vuembi nodded. "It's part of your new position."

I shook my head in frustration. Why even bother asking me? "I guess I don't have a choice then. What am I doing?"

"Are you willing to relocate?"

I pictured myself taking a long road trip to Nebraska, or California. "Relocate to where?"

"Anywhere."

I groaned, thinking they intended to send me to Korea on my own pocket money. "Uh...if you're paying the travel expenses."

Vuembi laughed. "Fair enough. We'll need to get you a drug screening right away."

"I thought you people already took my clothes off and probed me," I said. "You had plenty of time to take all the tests you want."

Puppy ears just smirked at me. "You know as well as I that things don't work that perfectly. They brought you in for poisoning the other day. They weren't looking for the same things."

I frowned. "Wonderful."

"I hear you had an altercation with Sharon Jones."

I blinked. "Sharon?"

"It's short for DeSharon. I believe he goes by the name Snaker."

Sharon. I chuckled as I began to understand the man's pent up frustration.

Shrugging, I said, "I accidentally bumped his car and then he goes crazy and cuts my neck. So yeah. We met."

"How would you feel about working next to him?"

I sighed. "I've worked alongside jerks before. As long as you mind your own business, and they mind theirs, there shouldn't be a problem."

"Good. Now, what do you feel about the idea of extraterrestrial life?"

I chuckled. "You should see my DVD collection. I'd love to meet a real life space alien."

"You just have," Vuembi smiled. "And you're going to meet more."

I laughed skeptically. "I admit you look weird, but..."

He didn't reply. He just gave me this expression like nothing further needed to be said.

"You know, I was going to ask about those ears, but I thought it would be impolite."

"Yes, I am an Olneco," he said as if it were an annoyance to explain it. "We're basically like you. Tell me, who do you live with?"

"My mom, dad, and brother."

He leaned over the desk, seeming to be fascinated. "Do you have a wife? Girlfriend? Children?"

"No..."

Vuembi steepled his fingers. "Will they be fine if you leave for fourteen days?"

"I think so. They'd probably be happy to have me out of their hair. As long as there's no emergencies..."

"...and your emergency contacts are still up to date?"

"Yeah."

Vuembi raised up a hand and clenched his fist, causing fins to pop out the forearms. "Ahhh. Feels good to stretch."

I grinned as he folded the fins and pulled a colorful multiple legged object out of a glass bowl, sticking it in his mouth.

As I continued to stare, the Olneco pushed the bowl to me, offering me one.

The bowl was a mess of bumpy shells, legs, feelers and eye stalks. They didn't look like any type of bug I'd ever seen.

In my book, it didn't matter if I died, it only mattered that I died in a way that didn't cause excruciating pain.

This is why I always dreamed about finding one of those houses they always talk about in ghost stories, some place that's dirt cheap because everyone who ever lived there ended up dying, or going mad.

I'm already mad.

Poison, although slightly painful, was not as bad as falling off a building, so the idea didn't bother me.

And I always wondered what alien food tasted like.

"If I try one of these, will it show up on my drug screen?"

He laughed. "Our lab can tell the difference."

With a shrug, I picked one up and bit into the shell. The bug had the flavor of moldy bread, sauerkraut, cheesecake and Pepto Bismol, all in one. I grimaced.

"It's good, no?"

"No."

He seemed to find my facial expression hilarious. "It's an acquired taste."

Vuembi cleared his throat. "You have a day to pack everything you need for the trip."

"Where are we going. Really."

"It's like I said. Everywhere. Just pretend like you're going camping. You have gone camping before, haven't you?"

"I used to be a Boy Scout."

"Good! Excellent. Pack like you're going to be roughing it. Trust me. You'll be glad you did."

I frowned. "What is this, some kind of ridiculous leader training course?"

"Something like that."

"I'm not going to have to dig my own latrine, am I?"

"I...wouldn't rule out that possibility."

I sighed. "Fine. Whatever. It's not like I've got a choice."

"Tell me, Jason. What do you think about space travel?"

"So now I'm an astronaut?" I shook my head in annoyance. "I don't like heights. Hence why I'm not in the air force. Are we playing space camp now?"

"You just ate a Nitqoy and you're asking if we're playing?" He shrugged. "You're free to go. Just remember. You have a day to prepare. Be here at five twenty. Sharp."

So I'd lose even more sleep, I thought. "The building doesn't open until five forty five, sometimes six," I said.

"That's what you think. Use the second entrance, the one past the garbage shed."

"Oh...kay." I frowned.

"See you then."

I paused. "What about the drug test?"

"Gary will show you the lab."

I walked out, searching the office for Gary.

I found him hidden inside a cubicle adjacent to his own, drinking coffee and reading e-mail.

"Where's the lab?" I said.

Gary jumped in surprise, then turned in his swivel chair, clutching his chest. "Don't do that!"

"Sorry. I just spoke to Vuembi and he said you knew where the drug testing lab was."

He sighed. "Right this way."

And then I followed him down that narrow hallway, down the staircase in the abandoned call center, and through a few winding corridors until we reached the decompression tank.

The marker boards and file cabinets had been removed. In its place, I could see a small sterile area that looked like a hospital ward.

The place contained six empty beds, a computer on wheels, dialysis and EKG machines, and racks of medical tools, from the medieval-esque to futuristic gadgets that looked like toys.

A woman with red hair in pigtails and pointy elfin ears stood in front of a desk, checking inventory on the computer with three fingered hands, while a purple child sized salamander with no eyes reached in drawers, making clicking sounds like it were counting something. From time to time, it would dig a calculator out of its lab coat, scribbling something on a clipboard.

Gary tapped the elf on the shoulder. "Sal."

The female looked up from her computer. "Oh hi, Gary!" Her voice made an odd chirping sound, almost like punctuation. "What brings you down here?"

Gary gestured to me. "Sal, meet the new nisigi. Well, not new, he's been with Sprint for more than a year. But he's going to be helping out here, so he's going to need a Sopolo scan."

I didn't know what any of those words meant, but I didn't really want to bother picking up slang anyway.

"What happened, you got tired of using the corporate lab down the street?"

"What we're testing for, you can't get in the corporate lab."

I stared at the strangers with a mixture of shock and amusement. "Those are great costumes," I laughed.

"Thanks," said Sal. "And you must be quite proud of yours. Let me guess. You're a jerk, right?"

I just rolled my eyes.

The woman pulled a white tube shaped device out of a drawer, sticking a memory card in a box on its side.

She inserted a rubber liner, handing the object to me.

It had an opening on one end, a sieve-like attachment on the other.

"Put this over your penis and urinate into it."

I stared at her in disgust. "Seriously?"

Her facial expression seemed to say that this was as ordinary a procedure as a fecal swab test. She seemed as indifferent to the idea as one of those grumpy nurses at Lab Corp would be about a specimen jar.

"Yes. The Sopolo will scan your waste molecules for illegal substances, health defects and cloning."

"Oh...kay."

I nervously fingered the box on the side of this obscene device, but then stopped when I realized that I might be telling volumes about my personal life by accident.

"I really don't have to go right now," I blurted.

She gestured to a bed. "Then have a seat. Would you like a soda? Pepsi? Mountain Dew? Azaoca? Apple juice?"

I swallowed. "Sure. Pepsi's fine."

I sat down.

"Tobhas!" she called, making a series of loud chirps and clicking sounds.

The purple creature dropped a nasty looking saw, digging a stainless steel bottle out of a fridge. It waddled over to my bed, offering it to me.

"Why's it in a metal bottle?" I said as I grabbed it.

"We bottle it ourselves from a reservoir. It reduces waste."

"So, what, you got a lake of Pepsi?"

"No," she said. "We make our own sodas from carbonated water and syrup. It's kept in a tank."

I took a swig. "Clever."

I found the flavor to be everything I expected, except for tinges of something tasting of Fisherman's Friend cough drops and little beads of gel flavored like burnt popcorn.

I grimaced. "What did you put in this?"

"Just something to make you pee."

With a shrug, I drank more, staring into the tube device. "There's holes in the bottom of this. How are you going to test anything?"

She gave me a look like I were crazy. "Your planet is so barbaric. To piss in a plastic jar? It's disgusting!" She sighed. "The Sopolo is computerized. The matrix of filters scans waste particles as you-"

All of a sudden, my bladder felt like it were going to explode. I jumped to my feet, fighting the urge to let it all go right there. "Where-"

She pointed to a sterile looking hospital bathroom. "Place the Sopolo in the cabinet when you're finished."

And so I hurried through the door, slamming the door shut behind me.

It was humiliating, but I did what she asked, voiding through the rubber sleeve. Once done, I stuck it in a specimen cabinet in the wall above the toilet tank.

"Am I done?" I asked her when I came out.

"Basically."

I saw her take a gun shaped device into the restroom, and there was a noise like that of a vacuum cleaner. A moment later, she stepped back out, pushing buttons and staring at a screen on the gun.

"Congratulations. You're negative for illegal substances." She frowned, squinting at the results.

"Something wrong?" Gary asked.

She tapped the gun. "It's nothing. I think there must be something wrong with the device."

"Does he need to be retested?"

"No...I'm just trying to figure out why every time I use this thing, the device seems to always say that the subject has 1.3% Xikkar count in their system. Even when we re-test our subjects, it always comes back to that same number."

"If the reading is accurate, would that much Xikkar interfere with job performance?"

She shook her head. "It's too small a quantity, and I don't even know if it's his doing. He has none of the symptoms of Xikkar abuse. This definitely looks like an error."

"He doesn't strike me as a drug addict," Gary smirked. "I think he'll be fine."

"So," I asked. "Now what. Want me to just go back up and complete my shift?"

Gary checked his watch. "Yep. Unless you want to be short some hours."

I walked to the door.

"You know how to get back, right?"

I nodded. "I think so."

And so I walked out the door, wandering down the hallway in search of the stairs.

As I passed a framed inspirational poster picturing an eagle in flight, I bumped into an old manager I thought I'd never see again. Brian Ross.

Brian had been my boss when I was working for Convergys collecting on Chevy car loans.

He wasn't old in years, only about thirty years old, and he looked every bit the young Republican. Conservative hair, conservative suit and slacks, loud tie.

He really didn't do much in the office other than chatting up female representatives, shouting balance in full, and giving pep talks. His primary achievement seemed to be putting an entry in the policy database that said "Brian is awesome," and "ninjas are cool."

I stared at him in shock. "What are you doing here?"

He grinned. "I was about to ask you the same question."

The guy had that sort of high falsetto you'd find in young radio preachers and homosexuals, but the guy majored in drinking and flirting with the opposite sex, preferring to spend his Sunday mornings sleeping off hangovers.

"Are you with DOGOS?"

He nodded. "Team manager. Are you?"

"Yeah. Well, not a manager, but..."

Once assured that my speech would not result in me getting fired and blackballed, I explained how I got into this mess.

He just laughed. "We're going to be working together! How awesome is that!"

I just shook my head.

Dork.

"It's pretty awesome, all right," I replied lamely.

Before walking away, he did that little annoying thing where he clicks his tongue and flicks his index finger at me.

When I glanced back, I saw him walking into the little hospital.

And so I returned to the Sprint office, resuming my usual work.

When a coworker messaged me about what I'd been up to, I said it was a performance review, and that I did well.

The rest of the day passed in the ordinary way. The usual dull phone calls, the usual schedule.

When I came home from work, I found dad doing the dishes, and he wasn't happy. I'd skipped a day, and now he was upset, grumbling about how he was the only one who did chores around the house.

"I was just about to do them!" I protested.

"When? Next week? You need to do dishes every day. Just like laundry and everything else. If you're going to live here, you're going to follow our rules."

"C'mon, dad! I wasn't going to let them pile up that bad. I had every intention of doing them!"

"Yeah. When they're all piled up to the ceiling and we have a black ring around the sink!"

"But I work!"

"Your mother helps out and she works. When you move out, are you just not going to clean up after yourself, or bathe?"

"I'm going to bathe! I always bathe!"

"You're just not going to do the dishes. You said you're living like you're moving out. Are you just going to eat out all the time and never wash a dish?"

"No!"

"Then you got to start doing something around here besides drawing those dribblings all the time."

I sighed. "Fine. I was wrong. I'll do the dishes every day." I cleared my throat. "Dad. Something came up at work."

'"What, they fired you?"

"No...actually there's a...leadership event. I guess I'm going to be roughing it for two weeks in the woods or something."

"Gives me less dishes to clean.' he grumbled. "Where are you going?"

"I...don't know. They're very secretive about it. Hopefully we're not just going down to the lake and singing kumbaya."

"I thought you liked things like that. You're always going to choir retreats and all those church functions..."

"It's not the same thing. We'll probably spend all that time talking about management and complying to procedures."

"Are you being promoted?"

"I...don't know. I think it's more of a...lateral move."

Over supper, which I cooked, I told mom about the excursion.

"Sounds like fun," she said. "Do you know what you'll be doing down there?"

"Not really. They didn't tell me much of anything. They didn't even say where we were going. I guess it's camping, though. They told me I should bring camping supplies."

"Camping is fun," she said.

"Yeah. Maybe. I don't know about two weeks, but whatever."

I spent the rest of the evening packing, shopping and doing laundry to take with me.

As I loaded everything in my trunk, dad father jokingly asked me if I were moving out. Several times. As if it were funny the second and third time.

I tried to humor dad by doing the dishes, but as in other occasions, the opportunity to prove myself was taken away from me, rendering the scolding useless.

I slept fitfully that night, kept awake by anxiety about the upcoming fourteen day excursion. I only slept about an hour, my much needed REM sleep interrupted by an alarm at four in the morning.

I showered, dressed, ate and left while everyone was in bed.

At the building, I carried my suitcases to the door they described and left them there as I went to get my sleeping bag and the rest of my supplies.

When I returned to the door, I noticed that my stuff had vanished.

The door swung open and I saw the midget stepping out, grabbing the bag I'd just set down.

"C'mon. Hurry. We're moving in twenty minutes."

"Are we doing a caravan?" I said. "Where's the vehicle?"

He gave me a blank look. "What?"

"Um, shouldn't we leave the stuff out here until the bus comes?...or car, or whatever?"

Victor laughed. "Bus!" Shaking his head, he slapped a concrete wall. "This is the bus, kid."

I stared at him in bafflement. "Is this some kind of Zen thing? One hand clapping? Something supposed to make me shut off my rational mind?"

He shrugged. "Sure, if it makes you feel better. Why not. Tell me. You ever seen the movie _Stargate_, kid?"

"Uh, yeah..."

"_This building_ is like a giant Stargate. I think it must be using a giant wormhole. It's the only thing that makes sense to me. The other theory I heard was something about haunted houses and time travel, but I still don't get that one." He blew a raspberry. "Anyways, you got roughly..." He stared at his cel phone. "Twenty, er, fifteen minutes to get your shit in here before the building takes off to who knows where."

I just laughed at him. "You're stretching credibility here."

"Kid, you don't know half of it."

"I mean, okay, I believe in aliens. I saw some weird stuff. You got some manager with funny ears, and there's an elf and a purple gecko in the hospital."

"Tobhas," said victor.

"What?"

"He's a Rapwoy from the planet Wocon."

I frowned. "Okay. I'm just saying, I don't believe this building can go anywhere."

Victor crossed his arms. "You believe it can travel forward in time, right?"

Smirking, I said, "I know it travels through time like everything does, one day at a time."

"True, but it does more than that."

I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, right."

"Believe what you want, but if you don't get your stuff in here fast, you won't be seeing it again for a very long time."

"Right, because someone's going to steal it, right?"

He shrugged. "We won't be here, so if anything is lost to theft, it's on you."

"You're really serious about this, aren't you?"

"Believe what you want. You probably got ten minutes left."

"Assuming that what you're saying is true, does this kind of thing happen all the time?"

"Pretty much."

"Then why didn't I notice anything? I've been working here for a year and a half!"

"Did you go into other parts of the building every day, or did you just stay in the call center until your breaks and lunch?"

"Uh..."

"Exactly. There's a dimensional pocket protecting certain zones of the building. From time to time, an observant person may have noticed something amiss, like a giant bat flying across the farmer's field in the distance, but people like you just sit there and read books and text during breaks, so you don't see anything."

I frowned.

"C'mon. I'll show you to your sleeping quarters."

I goggled at him in surprise. "Sleeping quarters? Here?"

"You'll figure it out soon enough. Is this all your bags, or is there something else back at the car?"

"I...think that's it. I can probably go back to the car if I-"

"No. No you can't. Either you get your stuff, or it's gone for two weeks."

I shrugged. "I'm fine. Let's see these `quarters'."

And so I followed the dwarf as waddled down the staircase in the abandoned call center, through a long stretch of hallway, and around a corner to a room full of bunk beds.

"Not much privacy, but you get used to it. The bathroom has a lock, if it's any consolation. If you want to fraternize, so to speak, you might want to look elsewhere."

I set my things down, setting my sleeping bag on a top bunk.

"Class starts in a couple minutes, if it hasn't started already. I'll show you the room."

And so I followed Victor back down the hallway, to the other end of the building, watching as he knocked on a closed door.

It came open, and I was staring into the weird looking face of Mr. Vuembi.

The alien dismissed Victor and led me inside.

It was the standard drab gray classroom with rows of work tables, a markerboard and beat up chairs. What wasn't standard were the silver cones and miniature sandboxes full of rocks I saw at every desk.

Vuembi led me to a seat at near end of a table, in between a lanky black man in an oversized shirt, and a rather sour looking dark skinned older woman with dyed blonde hair and hideously bright eye makeup.

I stared at the sandbox in front of me, poking one of the rocks.

Vuembi slapped my hand. "Don't touch that."

He turned to face the rest of the class. "Everybody. Hands off the Gezrot. This is highly sensitive material and you can seriously damage the mechanism if you're not careful. These things are imported, so they're not very easy to replace."

I placed my hands in my lap, impatiently awaiting an explanation.

"Before I begin," the alien said. "I need to give you a little history lesson. Dogos was founded in 3029 on the planet Geidi Prime. The original purpose of the company was shipping a drug called melange to different planets."

I gawked at him in surprise. Raising my hand, I said, "So you're saying Dune is real?"

The manager stared at me. "What's Dune?"

"It's..." I stammered. "It's basically what you just described. Giant sandworms and people with glowing eyes."

Blank stare.

With a grin, I kept going. "Are we going to meet Paul Atreides?"

He just shook his head. "I don't know what you're talking about, but let's get back on track. The company began as Harkonnen Industries, but over time the name was changed to FARUK, expanding beyond the sale of drugs to other materials such as food, wilderness survival gear, and eventually communication devices, security services, and women's handbags.

"Enter DOGOS. DOGOS was a successful line of merchant centers on the planet Tappuc. They sold a vast assortment of materials, from soup to nuts, and spread like wildfire across their planet. I'd personally compare them to Walmart. DOGOS got so big that they had to expand outward into space. And when they serendipitously ran headlong into FARUK, it proved to be an unbeatable team, and they soon had centers set up all over the galaxy. Our call center is an experiment. If we do well, we miught have a DOGOS store coming to our planet sometime soon. If not, they might choose to close our department and we'll be out of a significant amount of revenue. So this project is very important. You're here because you're the best, and we trust you'll be the right kinds of people who will finally bring DOGOS to earth and make our site number one in the galaxy."

I raised my hand. "What about House Atreides?"

The teacher grimaced. "Let me tell you something about House Atreides. House Atreides is what the Independent party is to the Republican party. Their pie-in-the-sky tree hugging philosophy was totally impractical for modern business and society as a whole, and they simply don't have the popular support to be of any real significance in galactic commerce."

The whole thing seemed so ridiculous that I had to keep going with my line of thought. "So...we're working for a floating fat man?"

Blank stare.

Before I could speak again, Vuembi said, "Mr Finch, it would be best if you forget whatever wild stories you've heard and just pay attention to what you're being taught. These silly stories can be discussed at a later date or at break or lunch when we have more time."

A hand raised up behind me. "Hate to disagree with you, but throughout history, independent parties have from time to time gained enough popular support to get the president elected."

"All right, smartass," said the teacher. "We're getting way off track. As previously stated, FARUK teamed up with DOGOS, and that's where we come in." He cleared his throat. "We've only got two weeks to cover this material, so listen up. First and foremost..."

Vuembi placed a hand on one of the sandboxes, flipping one of the rocks in it. I heard a sound like running water, and a strange abstract symbol suddenly appeared in the air.

"This is a Gezrot," he said.

"On each one of your desks, if you haven't noticed yet, there are Gezrot. These are highly advanced computer systems from planet Woirtu. You are now free to experiment with the interface."

These devices had desktops, but it was all holographic. Things floated in the air instead of moving around on monitors, and the desk had a third dimension, a constant annoyance.

I saw classmates flicking around the rocks, creating the sound of a gurgling stream, and did some experimenting myself. It turned out there wasn't any sand in the box, and when I rolled around a spherical stone, it moved around a cursor.

"Once you get used to the interface," said Vuembi, "I want you to novlar, or type in the code I put on the board and await my instructions."

Following the directions, I flipped over select ones to fill in the floating login prompt.

Once past that, I stared at a bewildering array of icons and text.

"This is the main desktop," said Vuembi. "You'll notice it is not truly a desktop because Kumazo does not use Microsoft Windows. We are lucky to even have a graphical interface."

After walking everyone through the login prompts, Vuembi told us to open a program called Soorix, which turned out to be a customer profile program containing data, fingerprints, and a 3D model of the individual. The alien individual.

I stared in fascination at the different "clients," four foot tall bears, bug monsters, humanoid alien people...I almost wet my pants in excitement.

"Remember, no matter what they look like, treat them with the utmost respect, like regular human customers."

"What's that red block of text on the bottom?" I asked as I examined the `screen.'

"That's skip tracing information, and law enforcement documents telling you if they're armed and dangerous or have other criminal attributes to watch out for. You won't need to use that information."

I noticed two of my classmates tinkering with the device, clicking the rocks around until a holographic image of a topless woman with four breasts appeared above their desk.

The boss, understandably angry, stomped over to them as they giggled and pointed, casually flipped over a few rocks, and the image vanished.

"Gentlemen, all policies regarding use of electronic communications apply to the Gezrot. If I see you accessing xalxub again it will be grounds for termination, do I make myself clear?"

The two nodded nervously, making themselves very slight in attempts to draw the attention from themselves.

We spent the next hours opening and closing various menus and accessing different windows in a repetitive style that resembled martial arts drilling.

As I neared the end of the another hour, I felt I might wet my pants for a different reason entirely.

We finished our computer drill, and our instructor told us to direct our attention his way again.

"Languages," said Vuembi. "The client does not speak English. Each of you will be given a special translation device to allow for easy communication. You will find them slightly uncomfortable, but we all have to wear them, managers included.

"That being said, Jandax are known to crap out on occasion, so I want you to learn some important words and phrases."

He wrote on the markerboard. "Neepra is the standard language of the galaxy. While many other dialects exist, Neepra is like English in its dominance. I will teach you the phrases you need to know on the communication device. First, the basic greeting. Hi. My name is Vuembi from DOGOS." He wrote on the board as he talked. "`Dusaq. Cahna Vuembi de DOGOS.'"

He dropped to the next line. "This is an attempt to collect a debt, and any information obtained will be used for that purpose. `Ruhd jilagosa rolakabi coexnet, kai algot putunitrib roradu welkbitu coz ruhd qasolire.' Why isn't any one writing this down?"

We all started scribbling furiously.

While I seemed to have an aptitude for speaking some strange language with Ms. Augustine, it apparently didn't help me during these lessons, leading me to believe that it was unrelated.

The language lesson went on for more than two hours. Somehow my bladder settled enough to let me continue holding it in.

"I'm tired," said one of the students. "When's break?"

"Actually," said the instructor. "We don't get breaks here. I know it seems unfair, but we don't have any legal leg to stand on. Officially, the moment you step into DOGOS facilities, you are no longer in the United States. DOGOS does not recognize the same labor laws that we currently enjoy in the U.S. You are allowed only a thirty minute lunch for an eight hour work day."

That didn't seem right to me, but I signed that agreement already, so I wasn't sure what I could do. I couldn't afford a lawyer, even if this was unconstitutional, and I doubted if I could find another paying job.

"What if we have to use the bathroom?" I blurted.

Vuembi waved his hand dismissively. "We have methods of solving that problem. We also have measures in place to help you quit smoking, in case anyone's wondering."

"I'll go on strike," someone blurted.

"You see, that's the problem. We don't want to _piss off_ the client, we're under a contract that states that no strikes will be recognized. In fact, if anyone does go on strike, we're required to fire everyone on strike or lose the project."

A skinny black girl with braided hair stood up, marching out the door.

"That's all right," he said. "I'll have a talk with her later. Now, we're halfway through the language lesson, so just hold on. We're almost done with it. Just a few more topics to cover. This is how you discuss payment options. `Snaib gofuchik ip dool heswen deced.' I can offer you a five month plan."

And on the lesson went. The girl with the braids came back in, looking flushed and angry, but she didn't speak. She just sulkily slipped into a chair, taking notes like nothing had happened.

"I'm having trouble staying focused," I protested. "It would be easier if we got a fifteen minute break."

"Nice try, Mr. Finch. I suggest you stand up or do whatever you have to do to stay alert. Lunch will be in an hour."

I didn't like it, but what could I do? I stood up, trying to keep my bladder from spilling.

At 11:40 the teacher said, "All right. Twenty minutes to twelve. I know you're tired, so I'll give you a tour of the facilities and you can go to lunch."

It was the first time I truly got to familiarize myself with the layout.

Past my sleeping quarters, there was set of closed storage areas, the sleeping quarters for management, and, in the center of the floor, diagonal from my room, there stood the male and female showers.

"Here's the restrooms," Vuembi said. "You'll notice they come equipped with special changing areas, which you will be thankful for later. Trust me."

I stared at him. "Changing?"

"You'll find out soon enough.

"You mean like dressing rooms?"

"Not exactly. See for yourself." Crossing his arms, he gestured for us to hurry in and use the facilities.

It wasn't what I expected. The place had only a couple stalls and urinals. Mostly I saw rows of what appeared to be vacuum hoses on the wall, and a set of fold out plastic benches. I didn't want to think about what all of this meant. I only knew I had to stand in a line to take care of business.

When everyone came back out, Vuembi led us around the building some more.

There was a giant freezer behind the power station/generator that supposedly allowed the building to function on every planet. The place had a dojo, and a room that Vuembi said was responsible for providing oxygen to the entire building.

On the floor below, I saw a self contained water reservoir, a laundromat, and a library.

I could tell there was more, but Vuembi just turned us around and led us back upstairs.

Unknown to me at the time, there was actually a cafeteria behind the little hospital room. When we turned the corner past that place and marched down a hallway, I could see it.

It was a large gray room filled with long rectangular tables, with a buffet with a sneeze guard running along the back wall.

"And here's the lunch room," our guide said. "Remember. We meet back at 12:45. You're dismissed!"

I somehow found my way back to the sleeping quarters and got my lunch, but then I got lost.

As I wandered around the hallway, staring into a room full of radio equipment, I noticed Grace marching up to me.

"The cafeteria's down at the other end." Grinning, she pointed down the hallway.

I gave her an embarrassed smile. "Thanks."

Before she could walk away, I said, "Aren't you dead?"

She gave me a blank look. "I'm sorry?"

I explained the story of her fictional namesake.

"Hollywood," she sighed. "They have the story all wrong."

I laughed, astonished at what I was hearing. "What?"

"Nothing," she said, looking flustered. "Joking." And she gave me a fake laugh. "You get ried of people making stupid comments about your name."

"Then why don't you change it?" I said.

She didn't reply. She just walked away.

I tried to follow her directions, but I just got lost. Instead, I went upstairs to the Sprint break room.

When I saw the view out the window, I dropped my lunch bag.

Instead of the familiar white concrete parking lot overlooking a farm property, I saw a parking lot with a large parking garage, with a shopping center across the street behind it. The window on the far end displayed a wooded area full of weeds.

"We're on Metcalf," said a voice behind me. "We have sites all over town. If you want, you can run up the street to Dairy Queen, but don't get stranded."

I turned around and stared at the figure in the button up shirt and tan slacks. "Harry? Aren't you supposed to be working for Sprint?"

"I should be asking you the same question," he smiled.

I just shook my head in disbelief.

He walked up to the window, staring out. "I saw some Canada geese out here earlier. Wonder if they'll come back?"

I stared out the window, dumb with shock at what I saw.

Buildings don't move. You can't just magically teleport a big office like mine into another location.

It didn't make any sense, but yet there it was. The wrong parking lot. Somehow the building was on Metcalf.

Realizing that time was getting away from me, I microwaved my food and seated myself at a table.

"Are you okay?"

I looked up and saw the girl with the charcoal leggings and sharply pronounced African features staring at me.

"Fine," I shrugged.

I asked her name, and she said it was Juanita Chafen. She already knew mine.

"Uh...I guess it's okay to disclose DOGOS stuff to you, right?"

"Yeah?"

So I explained how I got sick and trapped in the DOGOS company.

Her eyes widened. "Wow. I only filled out an application!"

"Maybe your stats are better than mine," I muttered.

"So what do you think about everything so far?"

"I think this whole thing is nuts," I said. "Aliens, weird computers, no breaks due to some diplomatic immunity thing I don't understand. This can't be legal."

"I heard someone tried to sue them one time."

"Oh yeah? What happened?"

She shrugged. "I have no idea."

"They still didn't explain what you could do if you had to go during your shift."

"Hold it?"

I rolled my eyes. At least when you're a woman, you generally wear a pad or something. "Yeah, right. And how long can you keep that up?"

"I guess we'll find out."

I shook my head. "Have you met Grace Augustine?"

She nodded. "I'm pretty sure everyone has. She's H.R."

I told her about her strange outburst regarding Avatar.

Juanita leaned over the table, whispering to me in conspiratorial tones. "I heard she got molested by a Na'vi when she was little. That's why she's still single."

"Afraid of being violated?" I whispered.

"Naw. I hear she's just holding out for another blue guy. She never puts her hair up because there are ports in the back of her skull."

She sat back in her seat.

Harry just chuckled and stared out the glass.

I stared at the girl, thinking about how this little camping trip would be a great opportunity for me to acquaint myself with the opposite sex, but, being the abysmal failure I am, and being intimidated by her scary eyebrows and severe expression, I didn't bother. I just finished my lunch.

The girl walked away, but I saw that I had a few minutes left, so I joined Harry in staring out the windows.

I still couldn't believe that the building had relocated without the use of a massive semi.

All of a sudden, I saw a fog roll in, swirling around the glass windows until I could see nothing at all.

Bewildered, I pressed my face against the glass.

Wham! A second later, I saw a mass of leathery scales and muscle slamming against the glass, flashing a set of glistening claws and razor sharp teeth.

"Holy shit!" I jumped back from the glass, staring in shock as as a two legged reptile sniffed and paced back and forth around the fire exit, periodically scratching the glass and fogging the panes.

Swearing softly, I ran out of the cafeteria, into the hallway, out of view of that particular row of windows.

"The building is protected by a force field," I heard Harry say. "That's why the glass isn't cracking. I'm not sure how much it can stand, but I've seen bullets bounce off it, and dinosaurs larger than that have run into it without doing any serious damage."

I find it hard to believe in magic shields and amulets when a muscular toothy reptile is pounding on a glass window and trying to make me his lunch. "How large?"

Harry laughed. "Well, the one I saw was about the size of a Buick. It tried to hit the area over by the trash can in the corner, but it only ended up with a headache. Still, if a T-rex ever comes by here, I'm not going to be nonchalantly eating my lunch here."

"Where are we?" I asked.

"Honestly, I don't know. I can only guess we're in the Jurassic era or something. Of course, our planet isn't the only place with dinosaurs in it."

And then he started rambling about evolution.

I didn't agree, but didn't feel like arguing. I just rolled his eyes and stared at the window.

No sight of the dinosaur.

The fog suddenly cleared, and I saw the windows fill with jungle plants, giant trees and vines.

"Now what?" I asked. "What is this?"

Harry shrugged. "Got me!"

With caution, I crept up to the glass, peering through the glass at the unusually shaped foliage, trees with giant ferns growing out of them, trees with bark patterned with button-like growths, massive pitcher plants and vines with eyes on them.

"Roar!"

I jumped at the sound, but then realized it was a prank.

Harry laughed, then stared out the window with me. "That's interesting. I wonder what evolutionary function those eyes serve?"

"I don't know," I frowned. "I'm not sure why God would make something like that either, or what god would."

Awkward pause.

"Maybe it's a protective mechanism for the tree," Harry said at last.

I checked my watch and saw I was going to be late. I hurried back downstairs, but got lost trying to find the classroom.

I went down a hallway, turned a corner, and found myself wandering past the water reservoir.

Hearing a loud shriek, I jumped back in surprise, staring down the hallway where a group of people in business casual attire attempted to wrangle a giant pterodactyl thing that flapped and banged against the ceiling, knocking down foam tiles.

The creature's single red eye glared at the crowd balefully as it flapped its splotchy yellow-purple wings, its stubby shovel shaped beak snapping at anyone who got too close.

"Hold her still!" I heard a voice yell. "I got this!"

I heard a metallic snap, then a short stumpy figure marched out of the crowd with a rifle aimed high in the air. "Keep it still!" he called. "I've got to get it in the heart!"

"That's what you said last time!" someone said.

"So I forgot the heart is above its genitals! So what! Shut up and keep it still! This is my last dart!"

Standing rigid like a statue, gun locked on his target, he fired.

I heard a pop, and the creature shrieked in protest, swooping down to attack him.

Letting out a most unmanly scream, Vincent turned and fled down the corridor.

My corridor.

The one I stood in.

There he was, screaming and stomping, closer and closer, with the pissed off razor clawed demon bird hot on his heels.

With a terrified yell, I jumped back into a recessed part of the wall just minutes before the creature dove down from the ceiling, snapping its beak.

The recess in the wall wasn't very much protection. It only went back a couple feet. If that thing wanted a bite of me, it could easily shove its face into the crack and tear into me.

I didn't know what the hell was going on. All I knew was, I wanted to get out of the hallway, and fast.

I broke into a run.

The beast banked sharply, letting out an angry squawk as it chased me down the tunnel.

Before I got too far, he stepped the wrong way and stumbled over a small body, tripping and falling on the floor.


	8. Chapter 9: Ikran Juice

Author's note: The previous chapter has been rewritten, with several changes made to the scenes and characters.

* * *

><p>A moment later, I felt a big heavy wall of flesh landing on top of me, filling my nostrils with the smell of rotten bagels and sweaty socks.<p>

The thing wasn't moving. I felt certain that I would die of suffocation if my rib cage didn't first collapse from the weight.

For a few tense moments, I struggled beneath this hot mass of smelly leather, unable to free himself as a pair of tiny fists next to me slammed into anything within reach, including me.

The midget was screaming, using up valuable air. I tried to push myself up, but the beast was too damn heavy.

Suddenly a meaty hand appeared at the corner, and the wall of dinosaur skin was lifted up.

Fearing I wouldn't get another chance, I bolted that way and found himself staring up at an impassive bearded face framed in chain mail.

The IT man from Sprint. In his full Renfest regalia.

I stared at him incredulously. "Hey! You're the bridge guy, aren't you?"

"That is one of my titles," he said with a faint smirk. "Today it's vehicle rescue services."

"How is this rescuing a vehicle?"

"The Hummer 's swamped with Ikran," said a voice behind me. "The razorbacks bombed it with pheromone."

I turned around and saw a tall lanky figure with glasses and wavy hair. Sam. "Who bombed what?"

"Save your questions for the meeting. Let's get this thing rolled over."

I watched as Victor, the bridge guy and the others rolled the creature on its back, splaying its legs. The thing had four lumpy protuberances down there, like swollen tumors with holes in their centers.

"All right," said Sam. "How do you propose we get this stuff out?"

Victor crossed his arms. "We jack it off, then stick a big popcorn bucket under its crotch." He turned his head. "Needle!"

He stuck a chubby finger into one of the holes. "Big needle! And a siphon!"

The little guy brought out a digit covered in pink slime, sticking it into his mouth.

"You're sick," said Sam.

"You know what this tastes like?"

"I dunno. Shit?"

The midget gazed at the ceiling, like he were a wine connoisseur describing a vintage. "It's...kind of like wasabi horseradish and cake batter and Worcestershire sauce all rolled up in one. Might taste good on sausage."

Sam laughed and shook his head. "You are so wrong! What if that shit gives you some horrible disease?"

Victor shrugged. "We all gotta go sometime. Got sprayed in the face with this crap a few days ago."

I saw Sal rolling a cart up the hallway, its shelves loaded with medical tools and a vacuum pump. "Please tell me you're not going to try to make steaks again, are you? To this day, I still can't get that smell out of my bedroom."

Victor grinned sheepishly. "The thought had crossed my mind."

"Well hen barbecue it outside, or I'll find a way to make your life miserable."

"No! Please!" Victor laughed. "Not another wife!"

"Do you want me to stick this needle somewhere else?"

Victor waved his hands in surrender. "No ma'am. Not until you can figure out where my veins are."

I saw him waving a bruised arm at me. "See this, kid? This is what happens when you go to Sal for a Tibtar immunization."

"No, it's what happens when you slap Sal on the bottom before a Tibtar immunization. You know, I'm pretty sure your behavior is against company harassment policy."

He gave her a wink. "You know you like it, double digit."

The woman ignored him, giving me a confused stare. "Aren't you supposed to be in that orientation meeting?"

I shrugged. "I am?"

She nodded. "Mission briefing. You should go."

"When is it?"

Sam checked his watch. "It's half over. Go down the hall. It's the big classroom."

I leaned over the giant body on the floor, gawking at it. "But how..." I stammered. "What's this thing doing here?"

Victor sighed. "I'll fill you in tomorrow. Suffice to say, this big bitch is going to have to go back through customs, pronto."

As an afterthought, he glanced up at the doctor. "No offense, sweetie. I was talking about the bird."

She scowled. "For that, I'm going to pepper your room with little black shoes for you to polish."

"Ouch."

Victor frowned at me. "Beat it, kid."


	9. Chapter 10: Dotar Sojat

Following Sam's directions, I marched down to the end of the hall, creeping through the open doors I found at the end.

Inside, I found a large version of my classroom. Same weird equipment, same kind of desks. I stood in a crowd of male and female employees, all dressed in polos and slacks or other regular office attire.

All types of people stood crammed inside that room, running along the outer row of cubicles, from buxom high school grads to old and gray haired, tall and short, obese and skinny, in all colors of the human palette (plus quite a few from some other palette).

In the center of this crowd, I could see Gary. When our eyes met, he seemed annoyed at me for some reason, but he didn't speak to me. Instead, he addressed the crowd.

"If you've read Terra Incognita or The Tale of Two Birds by Emil Malak, or seen his movie, it's wrong. Just to let you know."

I just stared at him, unsure about what the hell he was talking about.

"It should be pretty obvious that we're not on Earth, and that it's a jungle planet. The place we're at is called `Pandora'. It's a planet, not a moon, and the air is toxic to breathe. Uh, guys, if any of you have seen those movies, don't make any assumptions. This isn't what you think. For one thing, we're not here for mining. If you see any glowing rocks that look like they could be radioactive, don't touch them. That stuff, whatever it is, eats through Hazmat suits and corrodes lead, so, uh, just don't touch any of those rocks, okay, guys?"

There were nods and murmurs of assent.

I frowned in confusion.

The thought occurred to me that this Malak person might either be the screenwriter for Avatar, or that guy who sued James Cameron about stealing his script. If it were the latter, I'd seen that guy's website, and it didn't look anything like Avatar. Not unless there were gay genies and multicolored panda bears in the deleted scenes.

I just shook my head.

Gary pushed a button on a remote control, changing the picture on the flat screen television.

Now, instead of displaying a picture of statistics, it showed a thickly muscled blue creature, naked save for a tiny brown loincloth.

It wasn't what I was expecting. The beast had the head of a warthog, complete with tusks, wide flabby ears, and a pig snout.

"These are `razorbacks'," said Gary. "They're blue, and they have dreadlocks, but trust me when I say you definitely do not want them stuck in any part of you."

He changed the picture to that of a scary looking green wolf hound covered in porcupine spikes.

"Oh, and that news story about wild dogs roaming loose and attacking people...those aren't really dogs. They came from here."

He cleared his throat.

"In case you're new or you don't remember what we're doing here, the U.S. Bank facility at has gone silent, leaving us and two other facilities to pick up the slack. Normally they'd be able to handle the call volume, but NASLOR is experiencing attendance issues, and Runbis has been infested with Senlof biters."

I stared at a plasma TV attached to one wall, displaying a live bar graph of call center statistics. The graph changed and I was looking at a star chart, full of odd squiggling symbols.

"What's worse, we're currently entering the third quarter, the busiest time of the year, so the pressure's on to re-establish the communication network, unless y'all want to do some serious overtime. For the time being, your responsibilities are as follows:

"Tier 1 employees will field calls for Nomock, Vilrup Corp and Talpux. Tier 2 will transfer over to Facility B once contact with the other department is established. Tier 3 will accompany Vincent in reconnaissance, securing the facility. It's not as exciting as it sounds.

"Also, I probably need to remind you that, while we don't fire people here, we do have some nice unpleasant alternative jobs for discipline problems. Lisa, could you do the honors?"

A short twenty year old black woman stepped forward with a stack of papers clutched in her hand.

"Everybody, listen up. These are your team and tier assignments. Most of you already know your assignment, but some of you are new, and there have been some changes to the roster since last time." She cleared her throat. "Brett Spore: Ted Shanks..."

It was a long list, one that assigned everyone to a handful of managers on various tiers.

I guessed I actually was supposed to be at the meeting, because she read my name, designating me tier two under manager Necel Sebobo.

After wandering aimlessly through the crowd of assembled employees for a few minutes, I got directed to a tall curly haired blonde person of indeterminate sex.

Although this person wore a skirt, they were flat chested, they had short hair, and the shape of the aged face could belong to a male or a female. Its exposed legs were long and shapely, but covered in a coat of chestnut colored fur, patterned like an owl. Again, not clearly either sex.

"Are you Necel?" I asked.

"Guep. I am Necel Sebobo," it said. The voice sounded like a woman with a frog in her throat, or an effeminate guy. "You're Jason correct?"

"Yeah."

A long tail extended from beneath the stranger's skirt, making beckoning gestures at me.

With a shrug, I shook the tail, continuing to stare. I didn't want to offend the stranger by asking what sex it was, so I just stammered, "What will I be doing again?"

"What did they tell you in training class"

I shrugged. "Customer service and collections?"

"There you go."

Neecel waved a tail in the direction of the exit. "Juz. I'll show you to the floor."

I followed this individual back down the hallway, past the reservoir, then the laundromat.

We went down a staircase, turned a corner, and I found myself staring into a strange looking gray room full of tall drums with little doors on the side.

"This is the Tivsok where you'll be doing all your calls," my new manager said.

"Why do you have round cubicles?"

"They're Cagros units with built in relay. You're going to be doing live video chat. The walls help to block out distracting background activity to increase professionalism."

Necel opened one of the drums and I saw a desk with a sandbox computer and a flat elevated metal bench connected to a wall where a small cabinet stood.

"It's got everything you need to do your job," said Necel. "Some people like to put stimpacks or Red Bull in the desk so they can stay awake."

I pointed to a bottle on the wall. "What's this?"

"It's water. Each cubicle has an auto refilling bottle. Some people call it a hamster feeder."

I frowned, following Necel to a drum on a different row.

"This is your Cagros unit. We haven't got the name tags on them yet."

He waved to the one next to it. "This one belongs to Dennis the quality coach. Mine is on the end."

I followed it back out to the hall.

"Have you been given a tour of the rest of the place?"

I shrugged. "Basically."

"Aren't you supposed to be in training class right now?"

I frowned. "I got lost, and then I was told to go to a meeting."

"You'd better get back. Just as a reminder, we have you twenty four hours. You get a brief recess after the first training session, then you come back for another eight hours. That's how we condense our training to only a few days. Who is your training manager?"

"Vuembi," I frowned.

"They should still be holding class in room 103."

With an annoyed sigh, I ran down the hallway in search of the classroom.

After wandering for several minutes, I found it, but the door was closed, so I knocked, and Vuembi led me to an open seat, next to a fat faced guy with spiky hair. I sat down, pushing in the empty chair adjacent to mine.

I stared at the teacher, annoyed that I had missed half the lecture.

He seemed to have been lecturing on spousal permission. Picking up a pen, I tried to keep up the best I could, writing down the various places where spouses were permitted to discuss the account, and what constituted a spouse when the definition on a planet was unclear.

I noticed someone pull up a seat next to me, but paid little attention as I tried to keep up with the instructor. I saw something green out of the corner of my eye, but thought they just had on a colorful outfit.

As I was writing down some details about postdated payments and other details, I heard Vuembi say it was all in the packet, and thick booklets got passed around.

I saw a slender green hand passing me a stack of papers, and as I took a sheet and passed the papers on, I looked up and saw the slender, shapely body attached to it, a flat chested but pretty thing in a leather harness and loincloth, with four arms and a pair of tusks growing out of the sides of its head.

I stared up at the flat frog-like face with awed fascination. She had small cup shaped antennas, and only a pair of slots for a nose.

With a chuckle, I took a sheet and passed the stack along.

Her widely spaced toad's eyes blinked me in puzzlement. They didn't quite meet mine, but I didn't care. I smiled bashfully, giving her a little wave.

Okay, so I was more than fascinated.

She let out an amused snort, but seemed to be even more puzzled.

Not wanting to be rude, I looked away, which caused the creature to giggle.

The stack of papers were something about agreeing to terms of various laws I'd never heard of. I figured I'd know what they were soon enough, so I signed everything in the stack. Well, everything written in English, which happened to be about half of the pile.

As I filled out yet another sheet, I felt a tap on the shoulder. Looking to my right, I saw the green thing busying itself with paperwork, so I glanced back at the other row.

A gray haired hippie with a bandanna was seated directly behind me, but he was busy with papers, and he didn't seem to be the mischievous type.

Hearing a snort again, I glanced at my green desk partner, but she just mutely filled out her forms, oblivious.

Shaking my head, I returned my attention to the paperwork.

Once we had handed in our papers with everything signed the prescribed way, Vuembi had us introduce ourselves to the class. Apparently, face to face social networking is an acceptable business practice for other planets, even if a fifteen minute break isn't.

I'm really bad at names. I never remember the names of people in these little show and tell sessions. What I did remember was the moment when my green acquaintance got up to do hers.

I stared at this slender creature as she walked up in front of the markerboard, gazing at her hips, her bare belly...

Feeling her eyes on me, I quickly forced my eyes upwards, staring in to eyes that were too far apart for them to meet mine all the way. Red irises with black pupils.

"My name is Ibira, daughter of Sola, daughter of Tars Tarkas," she said. "I am from Barsoom. I have one year of customer service experience, and I like sports, painting and I was separated from the U.S.-Galactic Bank facility during a razorback invasion, so I'm here to learn operations."

"Thank you," said the instructor.

Ibira returned to her seat.

Tars Tarkas. I chuckled and shook my head.

As hard as it was to believe that this...oddly attractive...female came straight from storybook land, it was no harder to believe than the fact that she existed in the first place.

I grinned at her, then looked away.

I was called up next. I told the class I had a year of customer service and collections experience, and that I make comic books about violent squirrels. I sat back down.

With introductions out of the way, Vuembi led us through another grueling computer lesson.

Hearing a familiar voice behind me discussing the thirty eight sexual positions, I turned around to confirm my suspicion.

Zia! I thought. What is she doing here?

I stared at her, but she paid me no mind.

In the middle of a lesson about how to toggle customer information files in the program, I saw Victor pushing a cart loaded with boxes through the door.

I stared at the dwarf as he handed everyone on the first row a folded piece of white plastic.

"What are those?" I said.

"I don't know," said the green person.

"Those look like diapers," said the guy behind me.

Victor handed Ibira a diaper, but she waved her hands dismissively.

"Suit yourself."

And then I found one being thrown on my desk.

"What the hell is this?" I blurted.

"What does it look like?"

I gawked at him in disbelief. "You're seriously going to make us wear those."

"Well," Victor said. "People always bugged me about training. `Where's the training, Victor? Where's the training?' So then I said, `Here you go! Here's your training...pants!"

He burst out laughing.

I just stared at him.

"Just kidding. We don't have breaks in this company. Management decided the main reason for breaks is for using the toilet. Problem solved."

I frowned, refusing to believe what I was hearing.

Victor shrugged. "Schedule adherence is a bitch. What can I say?" He gave me a flippant smirk. "You can put these on whenever. Obviously, we don't want to go blind, so use common sense. Hold it until dinner if you have to."

"I'm not wearing that," I said.

Victor shrugged. "It's not a requirement, but you're required to work an eight hour shift with only one thirty minute lunch break. It was either this, or fitting everyone with catheters. We discussed surgical procedures at one point, but the company couldn't justify the expense."

"I'm pretty sure this is considered sexual harassment."

"Good luck trying to sue. The company and call center officially don't exist on earth, plus diapers are standard wear for astronauts."

With a sigh, I took it. "So we have to wear these."

Victor nodded. "Or hold your bladder the whole eight hour shift. If you think that's bad, you should see some of our uniforms." He delivered a diaper to the next student, giving me one last parting shot. "By the way, we're not going to change your dirty diapers or wipe your butt for you."

"Aww!" someone jokingly moaned.

I stared at the diaper, feeling humiliated and sick to my stomach.

"Your species has inefficient bladder configurations," said Ibira. "Especially your females when they're pregnant."

I unfolded it with a scowl. Although it resembled the standard adult incontinence product, it actually had sort of a mesh filter around the evacuation areas, and it didn't seem to be made of the usual cheap material.

Vuembi leaned over my desk. "It filters urea into water that it stores in pouches you can empty in the greenhouse or shower. One of the pockets contains waste pellets, which you can also toss into the greenhouse."

"Pellets?"

He shrugged. "Dehydrated excreta."

I grimaced. "Oh...kay."

"This will be your last fifteen minute break," said Vuembi. "Go."

As much as I hated to do it, I decided I'd have to do what I was told to keep my job. Shaking my head in disgust, then, I left the room, following my classmates to the bathroom.

I don't think I will ever do something more awkward and embarrassing in my entire life. To change into a diaper in front of other men in a crowded restroom... Ugh. It was horrible.

I returned to the classroom, walking kind of funny on account of the diaper.

I tried to ignore my discomfort, forcing myself to pay attention to the teacher as he activated a computer and started the next lesson.

Complaining of problems with her computer device, my green companion changed desks, seating herself in the row in front of me. Conveniently, she had chosen one which allowed me to admire her body without having my view obstructed by a chair.

When the creature noticed me staring, she rolled her widely spaced eyes and turned away.

We spent the next two hours learning how to operate a myriad of confusing programs , menus and notation screens.

I often got bored of the repetition, and found myself staring at Ibira again.

She caught me this time, frowning and furrowing her brow in confusion.

Turning red in the face, I bashfully smiled and waved to her, and action that caused her to giggle, her skin seeming to change tint.

She batted her lashes at me, stuck out her oddly shaped tongue, and turned around in her seat.

With the exception of a few random appraising glances, she didn't look at me again for the rest of class. The change to her skin color almost seemed permanent.

I gave up, driving myself deeper into the training.

At last, before I thought I could take no more, Vuembi stopped the drills and said, "Before I dismiss you for the day, each of you need to be measured for the new T2 agent uniforms."

Uniforms? The very thought made my stomach sink. Were there deposits? Was I to wash and maintain these things? Why couldn't I dress business casual like I normally did? I had regulation slacks and shoes.

Just about everyone in class murmured in dismay.

I was upset, but I knew it was no use to protest. I learned a long time ago not to argue with a company. If something is stupid, inconvenient or ridiculous, it's usually deeply grounded in the foundation of the company itself and cannot be changed.

"Since we're in training, wee use a graphic of your badge to represent you during the video conversations. But soon you will be going live, which means you will need to maintain a professional appearance appropriate for the demographic we're serving. We will be issuing your uniforms tomorrow. Today I want you to file out into the hallway, one by one, so Osmifa can get your measurements."

I didn't know Osmifa from Adam, but I figured I'd find out soon enough.

"I'm a large," I said, trying to avoid an annoying inconvenience. "My waist is 32."

"Nice try," said Vuembi. "But Ipsego sizes aren't measured that way."

When the turn came for her row I saw the green girl stand up, but Vuembi muttered something to her and she sat back down.

I leaned over my desk, motioning for her to come over and speak to me.

"What's wrong?" I muttered.

"The outfits only have two sleeves," she smirked.

I reddened. "Are they going to get you a four armed uniform?"

She shrugged. "Perhaps in a few months. It has to be discussed with HR. Currently they think that my quasi-primitive appearance will give customers a sense of user friendliness and easy to understand simple communication, making my skill and efficiency a pleasant surprise."

I gave her a grin. "I see."

Vuembi motioned for me to join the others in the hallway, so I stood up and walked out to there, where I saw the bald lunch lady kneeling next to one of my female classmates with a measuring tape.

She wrote something on a tablet computer, then waved me over.

The measuring turned out to be surprisingly detailed, like they were fitting me for a suit. Arms, legs, chest, inseam. I laughed at the fuss, but...Whats Her Name seemed completely serious.

She didn't say a word about the diaper. I didn't have to strip it off or anything. She just measured it like it was. That really didn't make sense to me. But she didn't ask me to do anything about it.

"You'd look nice in a dress," she said when she had finished.

"What?" I blurted.

She acted like we were talking about something completely ordinary. "Have you ever put on a dress before?"

"Never," I said.

She gave me this disarming smile and said, "Would you?"

I screwed my face up in disgust. "No way. I don't do that."

"Why not? It's only fabric."

I just shook my head. "I wouldn't. That's all. Are we done?"

She laughed. "Yeah."

But as I was walking back in the classroom, I heard her say, "Once we get you loosened up a bit, you're going to be fun!"

Class didn't get dismissed like I hoped. Instead, Vuembi commenced a lecture on the mathematics of Arcuva, which I guess was some sort of universal alien currency. The Arcuva has three decimal places after the "dollar", which is annoying, especially since the "ten" placeholder (the one that follows the "dollar") only goes up to sixty before rounding up to change the "hundred" spot, which, oddly enough, actually goes to a hundred. So the one goes to ten, the ten goes to sixty, and the others are normal.

And I thought I hated math before.

After this lecture had gone on for more than half an hour, Vuembi dismissed us, much to my relief.

I still hadn't gotten used to the idea of peeing on myself, so I hurried away to the bathroom.

Unsurprisingly, the place was near empty, with only a couple guys standing near the wall, plugging hoses into their diapers.

I used the toilet the normal way and washed up, wandering off in search of the food.

I hadn't thought to pack extra meals, so I was completely at the company's mercy, hence why I sought out the downstairs cafeteria.

I followed my classmates to the room.

The smells that greeted me were not conducive to a healthy appetite. While I could smell potatoes and a cheddar broccoli soup, I also detected sour cabbage, a kind of meat that smelled rotten, and something scented of epoxy, or moth balls.

To my shock, behind the buffet counter, I saw Sam, team lead from Sprint, ladling out scoops of potatoes and strange looking meat.

I followed a line up to the counter, staring at the people and the compartments of food. I couldn't see a cash register anywhere.

I approached a young girl in an apron at the far end of the buffet, waving to get her attention.

"Hey," I said.

She smiled. "Hey."

She had a pleasantly rounded face and caramel brown skin, but her head had been shaved completely bald, adorned with only an abstract pattern of dark brown spots.

"Um..." I stammered. "Is there a cash register around here somewhere? I have a debit card..."

She giggled, looking into my eyes. Her irises were huge black orbs, a weird an unnatural feature in an otherwise ordinary but beautiful face.

"You're new here, aren't you?"

I shrugged.

"Food rations come directly out of your salary. Take whatever you want."

I frowned. If my lunch was to come out of my salary, I would have at least made sure it came out of Applebees or something.

With a sigh, I got a plate, then followed the line up to the first food station, stared at a steaming tray of greenish red meat.

"What's this?" I said.

"Vornok meat," the girl replied.

Sam leaned over her station. "We mix alien food with the reserves so we can meter it out. You'll get used to it."

"The team acquired it during a sortie," said the girl. "This is the last time we can serve it before it expires."

"It looks expired already," I joked.

She laughed. "Trust me. You don't want to eat Vornok when it's expired, unless you wish to experience paralysis."

"How do I know I won't experience it now?" I cried.

She waved a hand at the other employees eating plates of the stuff. "They look just fine to me."

"I'll take your word on that."

And so I got a piece of...whatever, some cornbread, and some kind of broccoli casserole, carrying it over to an empty table.

The stuff wasn't the most pleasant thing I've ever tasted, like liver, pickles and Waffle Crisp cereal, but I was hungry, so I choked it down a few mouthfuls.

I nearly choked on the "roast beest" when I saw the curvy green body slipping into the chair across from me.

Two of her hands set down a tray of mystery meat and potatoes. A third held a glass of water. The other one self consciously straightened the leather harness that wrapped her body like a rubber band.

"Mind if I sit here?"

I swallowed hard. "Yes. I mean, no. Go right ahead."

She touched her fingers together, muttered something under her breath, then made a dainty slice through the Vornok meat.

Just seeing her doing that slight observance made me suspect that I actually loved her.

Since saying so would make for very awkward conversation, I decided to try safe territory first. "I came in class late after we dismissed. What did you go over in the beginning of class?"

She ate a bite of her food and shrugged both sets of shoulders. "Rolmub policies on Kahico Reeheb and Sniawud, mostly. They say it's similar to earth. Fair lending, harassment legislature, that sort of thing. It's in the packet."

I sighed in relief. "That's good."

We ate in an awkward silence for an uncomfortably long period of time.

"Why were you staring at me?"

I suddenly felt hot with embarrassment. "I..um..sorry. I've, um, never seen anything like you."

She smirked. "You seemed a little more than curious."

I swallowed. "Is that bad?"

She giggled. "No. I understand you've never seen an alien before?"

I shook my head. "Never."

"We have programs, you know."

I gulped. "I'll take your word on that."

She stood up, spreading her arms wide as she turned in a circle.

"See all you wanted to see? Done staring?"

The room felt suddenly sweltering. My cheeks couldn't have turned a darker shade of pink.

My words came out clumsily. "I...um...maybe?"

Her eyes seemed to widen, her skin coloration seeming to change in response.

"So..." I ventured. "You're from Barsoom."

She nodded. "And you're an earthling."

I stared at her in disbelief. "That book is real? John Carter?"

She shrugged. "Yes and no. Barsoom is not the fourth planet from your son, and a lot was changed to appeal to human audiences."

I looked at her skeptically. "Such as...?"

"For one, reports of `Voorginia's' strength are greatly exaggerated. He died. Alone. In a slave pit."

"So how did the story get out in the first place?"

"It was pieced together by his cousin Edgar, from his notes. One of his close friends in the slave mine preserved them until the Vogzom rebellion."

"Wow," I sighed. "That definitely sounds less ridiculous."

Another awkward silence.

I finally got up the courage to say, "Uh..you look very...interesting."

"I'll take that as a compliment," She laughed. "I suppose I should be glad that I interest you."

She leaned over the table, lowering her voice. "I thought that you seemed..._very interested_."

A lump momentarily caught in my throat. "Is that a good thing?"

She leaned closer, looking me in the eye. Well, close enough to looking me in the eye to make me nervous.

"_Maybe._"

I gave her a nervous smile. "Yeah. I'm interested. You look cool."

She shrugged. "I wear very little, but I am not uncomfortable in this climate."

"No," I stammered. "I mean , you look...cute. Really cute."

She gave me a blank look. "Are you saying that you find me sexually attractive?"

She was being a little too forward for me to be comfortable. All I could think to do was quickly blurt no.

She seemed taken aback, almost like I had slapped her.

I didn't want the conversation to go in that direction, either. With my face incredibly flushed, I backpedaled as fast as I could. "That's not what I meant."

Her eyes narrowed in anger. "And what exactly did you mean."

"No, I mean, yes, I mean...kinda?"

"Kinda yes, or kinda no?"

I swallowed. "I don't know. I mean, it's exotic. It's..."

Her two left hands tapped the table impatiently.

"Okay, okay!" I stammered. "I do find you (ahem), _attractive_, but we don't know each other that well, and I wasn't sure if it was proper to say something like that at this point, especially with all those harassment policies-"

"I find you `cute' as well," she smiled.

I could have fainted.


	10. Chapter 11: Nut Squirrels

I grinned at her nervously for a whole minute, clenching and unclenching my hands.

She chuckled. "It is like I am looking at a mimwab who has caught an asnadh and doesn't know what to do with it."

I blushed as I nodded in agreement.

"Tell me, Jason, do you have any girlfriends?"

"No," I stammered. "Generally they're too much trouble, and I'm too shy. Plus I don't really want kids."

"Why not?"

"I don't know," I said. "They're just hard to take care of, and I'm afraid I won't be able to afford it. I'm also afraid I won't be a good parent."

"You could use contraceptives," she shrugged.

"No, the odds of that stuff working are not very good. I don't care what they say. I don't want to risk it."

"How about getting your..." she seemed to be struggling with the vocabulary. "Valves knotted? Tied?"

Not understanding, I said, "Get my tubes tied?"

She nodded.

I frowned. "I'm not sure I want to go to that extreme yet."

"So you'd rather sleep with a Qozisa."

I furrowed my brow in confusion, wondering if that word meant what I thought it did.

Seeming to notice my blank look, she slowly pointed an index finger at her naked chest.

For a moment, I gazed at the flower shaped red-orange blotch running across her chest, but then forced my eyes upwards to avoid offending her.

I was so awash with conflicting, confused emotions that my response came out in a barely audible croak. "In not so many words?"

She glanced into my eyes, as if to verify the truth of my statement, then looked away, her forehead knitting in thought as her skin appeared to flush neon blue.

We sat in silence.

"Have you been outside lately?" I asked.

She shook her head. "The air is full of poison gas. Cyanide or something. Trust me, you don't want to go out in that."

"So..." I said, fumbling for conversation. "What religion do you believe in?" That sounded awkward, so I added, "I mean, if you don't mind me asking. I'm not familiar with-"

The glowing blue color seemed to ebb from her cheeks. "Wabbod," she said. "It is the faith of the goddess Iss. I give ritual offerings, participate in observances every Tooxri and practice daily meditation."

I wasn't too familiar with what she described, but I understood enough to not be impressed. But then again, she was alien, so I didn't get judgmental about it. "Are there any other gods or goddesses besides her?"

Her skin color now resumed its normal tint. "No. She only has her assistants, Jimnod and Wiqham, the moons of Barsoom, Laridar, the spirit of the soil...I would only consider them...angels."

"I guess that's kind of similar to what I believe."

My face must have shown my displeasure, for she narrowed her eyes in suspicion, tilting her head to one side. "Do my religious beliefs concern you?"

I shrugged. "You're not human, so I guess it doesn't matter if you believe in a goddess. My faith says nothing about converting space aliens, so you can believe what you want, I guess."

"I'm glad I have your permission," she frowned.

Another awkward silence. Ibira seemed to be lost in thought for a moment.

"So you do not wish to convert me to your religion."

I nodded.

"But you mentioned the need for conversions."

"I might have," I mumbled. I bit my tongue before saying more.

"Although you seem guarded in your disclosure of what specific religion you adhere to, it is not difficult for me to guess which one it is." She rested her chin in one of her palms. "Does it offend you that I worship a goddess?"

I shrugged. "You're not human, so why would it?"

She leaned over the table, cracking a smile. "Would you like to observe my religious practices sometime?"

I swallowed. "Um, if by `observe' you mean `watch', then sure. I'll observe."

Ibira grinned. "It's a start."

She checked an electronic gadget attached to her harness. "I'd tell you the story of Bipjok and the horn of Nusnir, but we have to be back in class."

I nodded. "Some other time, then."

We returned to the room, commencing more training about our computer menus, functions, and payment systems, as well as another lesson on currency. Apparently, in addition to the other currency system I learned about, certain planets count out sixty cents to their version of a dollar, and one hundred and ten for others. Again, the word `cent' isn't entirely accurate, but you get the idea. Some planets have a currency that is like the peso, where there isn't a decimal point in that way. The planet Ekmupa actually used three decimals, so it was a thousand cents, or more accurately, Wecimm, to their dollar equivalent.

I wasn't sure how I'd be able to get them all straight without the special program built into the system, or a huge notebook, and I knew without a doubt I'd be hopeless in debating "dollar" amounts on...whatever it was we were supposed to be doing, but I didn't have the luxury of quitting.

Remembering what Ibira had informed me about earlier, I requested a copy of the material I missed. While he strolled over to retrieve it from his desk, I stared at my classmates.

I hadn't noticed it before, due to being distracted with other things, but there seemed to be quite a few pregnant women in the classroom. The fact that they were that many in one place wasn't nearly as surprising as the fact they all sat in one row together. That, and the fact that one of their number included some sort of giant alien rodent with a lizard's tail and octopus suckers running up her back, was quite bizarre and surreal.

My mind reeled with unanswered questions, but I decided this company was an endless series of such questions, so I forced myself to focus on the lecture.

Vuembi switched on a device in the back of the room, and a holographic image of a red wide mouthed fish thing in a dress appeared in front of the markerboard.

"Greetings, new DOGOS employees," it said. "My name is Yoogtol. I'd like to cordially welcome you to the company."

And then the creature launched into a thirty minute speech.

At the ten minute mark, it finally got to the body of the topic and then we got a rundown of the rules in the handbook.

At the end of four hours of this torture, I double checked with Vuembi to make sure we were done for the day, then changed out of my diaper, wandering the hallways in search of my room.

After several minutes of wandering up and down the corridor in aimless directions, I found a doorway leading to a room full of bunk beds.

I know I was able to find my room earlier, to get my lunch, but I was still a newby with no sense of direction in these identical looking gray hallways, so I automatically thought the small room with the bunk beds I found was mine.

I wandered in, staring at the unusually small handful of empty bunk beds, wondering why the mattresses had silk sheets and pillows.

"Where's my stuff?" I muttered. After a moment's thought, I decided it was an executive sleeping area.

I was about to leave, but my curiosity about these luxury accomodations got the best of me.

Seeing a red door surfaced in rubber matting and leather roses, I crept up to the it, staring through the circular window on the top.

The moment my hand touched it, a pair of fuzzy brown ears appeared behind the glass, and then the door swung wide open, revealing a crowd of five foot tall rodents with iguana tails and bird beaks, all dressed in silky lingerie.

For a moment, the rodents just gathered around me, laughing and giggling at various parts of my body, and I stared back, unsure why these things were there, and what they found so funny.

All of a sudden, someone grabbed me, and I was being dragged into a strange sort of hotel suite resembling a dungeon.

The next few moments were a blur of fondling brown paws, shapely humanoid body parts and pecking beaks that caused articles of my clothing to disappear.

My shirt came off first. Then my belt. Then my pants.

The diaper fell on the floor somewhere, but I was unable to retrieve it, even if I had been concerned about such petty things at the moment.

Although I had given that speech to Ibira about how I basically preferred to (ahem) date outside my species, I still had standards that I did not wish to lower. Therefore, even though they were doing somewhat pleasurable things to my body, I didn't much care for the idea of being gang raped by a bunch of squirrels.

In a frightened panic, I struck one of the creatures in the face and climbed over someone else, pushing my way through the mob until I at last escaped their clutches, bolting out the red door.

Gasping and panting for breath, I stumbled out into the hallway.

It was then that I noticed I had on nothing but a pair of white elastic briefs, and someone was walking my way.

Every pore of my body burned with embarrassment. Even in my state of undress, I felt hot.

It reminded me of a time a year ago, when I had to excuse myself, without a stitch of clothing, from my neighbor's basement. To this day, I still can't make eye contact with Mr. Eiffler.

First the naked sleepwalking. Now this.

I wanted to hide.

I wanted to crawl into a corner and die.


	11. Chapter 12: Interspecies Love

Out in a public hallway wearing nothing but my underwear.

Despite its convenience, diving back in the room was not an option, and I didn't see any other nearby place to hide in.

I stared at the approaching figure.

Green.

Four arms.

Ibira, I thought. She wore less than this.

Despite these thoughts, I still found myself blushing.

Ibira stared at me in shock. "Jason?" she laughed.

"Hi," I said sheepishly.

"Interesting choice of apparel," she said with a grin. "I like it."

I blushed even deeper. "It was an accident."

"You need not apologize," she smiled. "It is...cute."

It felt like my whole body had turned red with shame. "It's against dress code, and makes me embarrassed," I stammered. "I really must be going."

She stepped closer, her warm breath tingling my naked chest. "Your reproductive equipment appears to have an unusual configuration."

I stepped backwards nervously. "I'm...sure yours does too."

She playfully ran a finger down my left nipple. "Can I see it?"

"No." And I hurried down the hallway.

"Your rooms are on the right side!" I heard her call after me.

After wandering around the tunnels and getting lost for awhile, I found himself looking at a strange woman with a furry neck and a long feathery tail.

"I'm pretty sure that's against dress code," she giggled.

The woman had on a blouse with ruffles and black slacks, a business-like outfit.

"I got lost on the way back from the shower," I lied.

She laughed. "Where's your towel?"

I told her I lost it, quickly hurrying away.

"Your rooms are to the left!" she yelled.

At last, I found the sleeping quarters, but Victor stopped me near the doorway. "What the hell are you doing?"

I shrugged. "I got lost on the way to the showers."

He laughed. "I'll bet you'll never get lost again!"

Turning red as a beet, I hurried into the room and put on a new pair of clothing.

I caught Victor marching down a nearby tunnel. "Do you know anything about the weird squirrels in this building?"

He looked at me like I were crazy. "What squirrels?"

I shook my head. "Never mind. Hey um, my...uh...diaper thing was..."

"Lost on the way to the shower?" he laughed. "I'll get someone to give you another one."

He stopped walking, glancing back and forth. "When's the last time you've been outside?"

"Maybe twenty four hours ago," I shrugged. "I heard this place is full of poison gas."

Victor shrugged. "That's why we have Bazroks."

"What?"

"It's a large alien organism you put inside your lungs."

I gulped. "Assuming I want a giant flatfish in my lungs, what about the dinosaurs?"

He actually seemed perplexed. "What dinosaurs? This is Pandora."

"Aren't there any flesh eating carnivores out there?"

Victor shrugged. "Depends on where you go." He crossed his arms. "You up for a little trip, or you want to be cooped up here all week?"

I eyed him with suspicion. "What kind of trip?"

"Do you have any fighting skills?

I furrowed my brow, getting more and more suspicious. "I...took karate once."

He squinted at me. "Wait a minute. Weren't you the guy that Snaker pinned to a car and slashed across the neck?"

I frowned.

He laughed and shook his head. "Karate! That's a good one!"

He paused a minute. "Wait a minute. You just gave me an idea. The only real reason why you're here is because of a stupid accident. We never would have hired you if it wasn't for that poisoning thing."

I swallowed. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"What I'm saying is, you're not an incredible employee, or we would have hired you on the spot. You're either bad at your job or just average, so no one's really going to care if you're gone. Productivity isn't going to change that much if you're gone a few days."

No one's going to care if I'm gone, I thought. Nice, Victor. But I didn't disagree with him. Instead, I just shrugged. "Oh...kay?"

Are your emergency contacts up to date?"

Now it really sounded like he was talking about my inconsequential death. "Didn't I speak to someone about this earlier?"

"Perfect. Tell me, kid. You like science fiction? Star Wars?"

I didn't know what this had to do with anything, other than the fact that this call center was chock full of bizarre alien lifeforms. I shrugged. "Yeah?"

"Ever wanted to go set foot on an alien planet?"

In my room I had folders full of drawings of bloodthirsty alien creatures in Judge Dredd costumes shooting up bad guys. "Yeah. all the time."

"Good! Good! Are you afraid of death?"

I shrugged. "Depends on how I die. I don't like my life, but I have reasons not to kill myself."

I saw an expression that seemed to be one of pity, but it could have been simple selfish disappointment. "So you got a death wish."

"No...I still have a self preservation instinct..."

Victor smirked. "You'll do. Tomorrow after lunch, I'll call you down to get fitted with a Bazrok and go with me on a mission."

I swallowed. "So you're going to stick something in my lung then?"

"Yeah. right after lunch. If I were you, I'd catch up on my sleep right now."

Once I had my things together, I took a shower for real this time. I didn't enjoy showering next to other men, but I put up with it, fixing my eyes on the painted concrete walls.

Returning to my room, I made the attempt to rest, unrolling my sleeping bag and trying to prepare for tomorrow, but I was too restless and worried about everything.

I got up, wandering the hallways, taking the utmost care to avoid the rodent room.

"Can't sleep?"

I turned around and saw Ibira walking up beside me.

"Yeah," I said nervously. "It's too early,and this place is strange."

"I can't sleep either," she said. "It's too stuffy. I feel boxed in. I wish I could go outside."

"If it were anywhere else, I'd agree with you."

We stopped.

Stared at each other.

An awkward silence followed.

"I believe we've started on the wrong...foot," said Ibira. "I was too forward. You'll have to excuse me. My culture is very primitive and we do not have the same sexual taboos."

My ears suddenly felt hot. "I..." I stammered. "It's...okay. It was...an unusual circumstance, and...I..."

I couldn't make myself say anything else.

She smiled. "You...did not mind?"

I was blushing now. "I...I don't know what to think."

"Have I caused you sexual confusion?"

I nodded my head vigorously.

"Then let us talk while we explore the hydroponics room. Perhaps we can address these issues in the slow, respectful distance that your culture is accustomed to."

That sounded like a good plan, so I followed her down two flights of stairs and down a long hallway to a room with a wide window displaying a vast greenhouse full of tree saplings, vegetables and other plants.

"Have you been in here?" she said.

I replied, "No. This is where you empty out the diapers, right?"

She frowned. "It waters the plants, yes. The used water from the bathrooms is also recycled and used here for watering."

She took my hand, leading me through a pneumatically sealed door into a lush garden populated with everything from tomatoes to cabbage.

"I have been contemplating your strange social preferences for some time now. I have often wondered, what if you found an earth woman who was sterile? Would that work for you?"

I shrugged. "Maybe?"

"Or how about a superior species?"

I stared at her. "What are you trying to say?"

She turned and smiled at me. "Would you like to be my boyfriend?"

I swallowed. "We are already friends, but..." I gulped. "Yes. That would be perfect."

"Yes," she purred. "I think it would."

Walking hand in hand, we strolled down a walkway between rows of corn, carrots and onions, taking in the plant exhalations, and the soft mist wafting down from the plant sprayers on the ceiling.

I stared with fascination as squid-like creatures with football shaped heads pruned vines, packed in dirt, harvested and took care of other horticultural tasks.

"The Ishuca," she smiled. "The best gardeners in the galaxy. They have a very special place in my tribe. You wouldn't know it, but they're very intelligent."

She walked up to an Ishuca doing soil samples, greeting it with a series of complicated hand gestures.

The creature responded by flailing its tentacles and waving its tiny three fingered hands.

With a smile, I waved to it, and it waved back.

"You look like a sweet couple."

I stared at the thing in disbelief.

It had no mouth, but its head flashed red as it spoke each word.. "Very unique."

It extended its neck, as if staring at me. "My people have a saying. They say an Ishuca has `elebni ivimbo' when they seek romance outside the species."

I suddenly heard a deep throaty laugh coming from somewhere else. "Now here is a pairing I've never seen before! A Qozisa and a human! Love is a strange thing."

I furrowed my brow. As surreal as it all was, this mockery was rubbing me the wrong way.

Still not believing I was talking to an alien squid, I said, "Well I've never seen a..._talking thing that gardens_ before!"

I felt an elbow jabbing me in the ribs.

"Don't be rude," Ibira hissed.

I frowned. "I'm, I'm sorry." I turned my attention to the creatures. "Well, you seem to be a very smart...um..."

"Ishuca," the creature prompted.

"Right. Ishuca."

"Perhaps you have made a good choice," said the creature. "You definitely need to be taught more tact. Perhaps she can supply you with the necessary respect and courtesy that you appear to be lacking."

Ibira put an arm around my shoulder. "Yes," she said. "He could definitely use that."

I reddened.

She spoke to the Ishuca in hand signs for a few moments, then led me by the hand through a wheat field.

I shook my head. "I thought the...guy's comments about us seemed kind of rude. Honestly, what I said wasn't any more tactless than what he said."

She put a hand on her hip. "Doesn't your religion teach something about turning the other cheek?"

I looked her in her eyes. Approximately. "That's really for human-"

She let go of my hand.

"It wasn't intentional," I said.

"Your tone of voice said otherwise."

Shaking my head in frustration, I looked up at her and said, "How did you know about turning the other cheek anyway?"

Shrugging, she said, "I have overheard much from human coworkers. Why does this not apply to nonhumans?"

For a moment, I didn't know what to say. There was an awkward pause while I formulated a response. "Nonhumans aren't in the bible, so there's no law about it."

"The opposite isn't very loving," she muttered. "Perhaps you should go our separate ways, so you can find a human girlfriend you can show your so-called `Christian love' to."

I swallowed. "I..."

She angrily crossed her arms, rolling her neck.

"I..." I fumbled with my words, desperately trying to tackle a complicated theological dilemma in a hurry. "I...don't know."

"Let me know when you find out."

She stomped away down the path.


	12. Chapter 13: Gardening

As she stormed away, I sighed, still puzzling over the theology.

"You're better off without her," said a voice somewhere beneath a row of corn stalks.

I shook my head. "Do you believe in heaven, mister Ishuca?"

"It's Huegra, but yes, I believe in Cucrah, where we can be together forever with Igxatu and all our lost ones."

"Do they have gardens?" I smirked.

Huegra nodded. "Yes, they're indescribable. Do you intend to chase your romantic interest? While I am enjoying this conversation, I can tell you have something else on your mind."

Indeed, it was true. I really had no good reason to speak about such matters with a glowing squid, except to verbalize my frustration. "Um...I don't know," I said. "I'd say something to her, but my bible isn't up for a revision."

"What does your heart say?"

I swallowed. "The heart is deceptive. It says so in the book."

"What about friendship, then?" the creature's head blinked.

I paused and thought about it for a minute. "You know, I do like having alien friends...;"

I marched up the path.

"Good boy. Go get her."

I found Ibira near the entrance, planting seeds in a patch of soil next to an Ishuca, dejectedly signing things to the creature as she dug holes with a trowel.

I sat down next to them, dirtying the knees of my jeans. "Can I help?"

She rolled her eyes. "Does your faith allow that?"

I smirked. "Look. I'm sorry, Ibira. You know, I was just talking with...that one Ishuca, and he got me thinking. Just because someone isn't your species doesn't mean you necessarily got to treat them like...dirt."

She winced at the unintended pun.

"I mean, I don't have to preach the gospel to space aliens, but I guess it won't hurt to show them Christian love anyway. It's a good model of friendship. It might even save a lost human."

She chuckled. "Or something else if it turns out to be more inclusive than you think."

I didn't know how to respond to that, so I just bit my lip and said nothing.

"Maybe," said the Ishuca.

"How does that," I stopped myself from saying `that thing.' "How does this Ishuca know English?"

She shrugged. "Obviously someone from this company told him `I need some carrots planted over here,' so he had to know something."

I would have asked how to tell the genders apart, but I didn't want to cause another spat. We got up, brushing ourselves off.

As we were walking back to the exit, an Ishuca popped out of a pumpkin patch, holding up a baseball. "Would you like to have this?"

I shrugged. "I...guess. Where'd you get it from?"

"A human was playing baseball here. We thought he'd break the windows, so we killed and buried him here."

I stepped back in fright.

The Ishuca laughed, but it sounded kind of creepy.

"Just kidding. He's still working in your office. But we injected him with a potion that makes him sleepwalk down here every so often to plant strawberries."

I frowned at the creature. "Can that stuff also make you walk around in a loincloth shooting at cats with a bow and arrow?"

I didn't think it was possible to see an expression of bafflement on a squid, but I actually saw it. "No. Why would it do that?"

Ibira gawked at me. "So that is what happens during the sleepwalking episodes you described?"

I nodded.

"This is not Ishuca doing." The creature again offered the baseball.

I nervously reached out and took the it. "I...won't use it around here," I stammered.

The Ishuca laughed. "If you see Robert, tell him the watermelons look great."

I cringed.

"Come on," Ibira said, taking my hand. "Let us continue our walk."

And so we strolled between rows of bean plants and a cluster of rice paddies.

"Um...we don't have a bat," I said. "But we could play catch, I guess. Maybe not here next to the window, but somewhere."

Ibira nodded. "I don't relish getting a xotroc either."

"What exactly is a xotroc?"

Her second hand wrapped itself around my shoulder. "It's...a companion bug. It attaches itself to the nervous system...but it's codependent."

"You mean symbiotic?"

She nodded. "Yes, symbiotic. It gives the host a pleasant burst of dopamine at the completion of its daily task, similar to an orgasm. It's harmless."

I grimaced. "You seem...oddly familiar with this."

She shrugged. "I am a Qozisa. These things are common knowledge in my tribe."

She let go of my hand, putting that lower left hand around my waist. "You shouldn't be so upset that the Ishuca made comments. After all, no one has ever seen a Qozisa with a human boyfriend before."

My face turned pink. "I guess not."

We returned to the hallway, marching down to a section of the building relatively free of breakables. There we practiced throwing and catching for a few minutes.

When Ibira decided to try throwing from a greater distance, the ball bounced off my hand, rolling through a door frame into a room with bunk beds.

I took one look inside and backed away.

Noting my apprehension, Ibira marched up to me with her hands on her hips. "What is the matter?"

"I'm not going in that room," I said. "There's some squirrels in there..." I lowered my voice. "And I think they want my nuts!"

She laughed. "You? Afraid of a bunch of squirrels?"

I nodded. "They're not garden variety squirrels. They're...bigger...And kind of perverted."

She laughed. "Fine. I will retrieve the ball from the squirrels' den."

She stepped into the room.

"Hello! Squirrels! I am retrieving my cowardly friend's ball! Do not disturb his nuts! He has other plans for them!"

With a laugh, she stepped back out, throwing me the ball. "I saw some clothing in there. It looked like yours, but everything was covered in slime. Are you sure the squirrels didn't already take your nuts?"

I swallowed, shaking my head. "No. I, uh..." I dropped my voice to a low mutter. "I got away before they could take my virginity."

She laughed. "I can tell."

She waved at the room. "Are you sure you don't want your clothing back?"

I nodded. I didn't even want to think about touching that gunk.

We moved the game a little further down the hallway, becoming more adventurous with our throws.

After carrying on like this for about ten minutes, frequently getting the ball lost in various rooms (on my end, of course), we called it quits.

It was like the ending to a first date. We just awkwardly stared at each other, fumbling for words to say before departing for the night.

Ibira dug in a pouch attached to her harness, handing me a stubby twig that looked like a green ginger root with pink and purple spots.

"What's this?" I said.

"It's Gimur Claw. It will help you sleep."

I frowned. "It's not going to give me an orgasm, is it?"

"Would that be bad?"

"I'm not going to get much rest if I'm splurting on myself or spending all night in the room down the hallway planting tomatoes."

"Don't be silly," she grinned. "It's just a sedative. The worst it will do is give you strange dreams. Just chew on it for awhile until you feel it working"

"Uh...thank you." I paused, frowning at the root. "What kind of weird dreams?"

She shrugged. "It varies. Do you want to sleep or not?"

"Fine," I said.

"Just chew on it until you get so drowsy that feel you're going to choke on it, then spit it out and go to sleep."

I nodded. "Thanks. Good night, Ibira."

She smiled at me. "I enjoyed our evening together. I had a lot of fun."

"Really?" I stammered in surprise.

"Yes. Considering the circumstances, I think a platonic kiss to the cheek would be injurious to you, so this will have to do."

Stepping close, she grabbed both of my shoulders, and my hips, giving my face a gentle poke with her tusks.

With a soft purr, she rubbed her cheek against mine. "Good night."

With a bashful grin, I left her, returning to the sleeping quarters.

The bunks were now occupied. Sam on top of his bunk, Snaker on the top across from him, other coworkers sleeping on the others.

I crawled into my sleeping bag, chewing the root in the prescribed manner until I got drowsy and spat it out, falling into a deep sleep.

In my dream, I found myself sitting naked in a field of green grass, staring as a naked blue woman from the movie Avatar plugged her dreadlocks into glowing willow fronds dangling from a tree branch above her head.

She swayed back and forth, chanting something in a foreign language.

As I watched, I noticed white plant tendrils curling around my thighs, some of them digging right through my skin, but they didn't bother me somehow.

"Hello?" I called.

No answer.

Suddenly, my eyes opened, and I found myself staring at a suit, and looking up into a blank expressionless human face.

"You've been sleepwalking, Mr. Finch," the man said. "I'd avoid going outside if I were you."

I started, glancing at my surroundings with confusion.

I was standing in some featureless concrete corridor, presumably within the same building I went to sleep in. When I looked back in the direction of the suited man, he was gone.


	13. Chapter 14: Symbiote

The hallway was cold.

Feeling a chill and goosebumps rising on bare skin, I looked down and suddenly noticed I was naked.

Disoriented, I followed a wall until I bumped into a female figure in a labcoat.

Grace Augustine.

With a laugh, the woman handed me a towel, directing me to my sleeping quarters.

Still groggy and tired, followed the directions, stumbling back to my bed.

I put my clothes back on and tried to sleep again.

As before, I found myself in the green field, with the vaguely erotic sensation of the glowing vines wrapping around my thighs as I stared at the blue woman plugging her hair into a tree.

"Hello," she said in my mind.

"Hi!" I found myself saying. "Neytiri?"

"I know no such name."

"Are you...a goddess?"

A second later a giant pig's head was squealing in my face, vomiting a geyser of cold water.

I awoke to the sight of Sam pointing the muzzle of a super soaker at my face.

"Breakfast," he said. "And you'd better hurry because your class is starting in about twenty minutes."

I glared at him, but still felt grateful for the wake up call.

"Oh, and here's this."

Sam threw a folded piece of plastic at me. "Victor said `baby needs his diaper.'"

I scowled at him, but picked it up anyway.

With a groan, I got up and prepared myself, hustling to the cafeteria.

Breakfast consisted of eggs, the side dishes from the previous night, and cuts of orange-purple meat.

"I thought that meat was expired and you weren't going to serve any more," I said to the bald girl.

She nodded. "It was. This is Ikran."

I swallowed. "You mean, like the one Victor was trying to shoot in the hallway the other day?"

"The same," the girl said with a grin. "See? Completely fresh!"

Having already eaten worse, I rolled my eyes and took a slice, seating myself at the table I'd occupied last evening.

"How was your sleep?" Ibira asked me as I hurriedly shoveled food in my mouth.

"Good," I mumbled. "But you're right. I did have weird dreams."

She giggled. "About what?"

I reddened. "Gardening."

Smirking, she stood up. "See you in class."

I finished up and dashed after her.

We met in the same classroom as before. The class seemed smaller, but I guessed it had something to do with the break policy.

"Today we're going to familiarize you with aliens," Vuembi said when everyone was situated. "There are perhaps more than one hundred paying species across the known galaxy. Obviously this doesn't account for the billions that don't have currency or Revnids, but that's not important. I'm going to give you a quick rundown of the species that we do business with most, just so you know what to look out for when you see them."

Using his holographic device, he displayed a picture of a figure in a pink frilly dress, with furry arms and legs and a tail.

"This is a Harfon. They have two sexes, male and female. As you can see in this image, sometimes the males wear outfits that make it difficult to tell which is which. This one is a male. Notice his square jaw and lack of a tuft on his tail."

He then showed the image of a large praying mantis with a slug's head. "The Kascen. They're friendlier than they look. A little hard to warm up to, but if you're willing to humiliate yourself, you can do business successfully with them."

A humanoid rodent appeared.

I shuddered when I noticed the beak. The tail. The lingerie.

I was thoroughly familiar with them.

"The Choroquin. These guys are wild. No sense of decency, no sense of shame, no harassment laws. Their middle name is `indecent'."

I agreed with that assessment.

I noticed Ibira smirking at me, pointing to the image.

I just rolled my eyes.

I looked around to see if that one pregnant rodent was present to give a rebuttal, but she was curiously absent.

"If you see them doing anything inappropriate," the teacher was saying, "Just ignore it and keep doing what needs to be done. Keep professional, don't get distracted, just keep going with the call."

Ibira silently gestured at me, as if to say, "See? That's what you do!"

"Eemember, these calls are being recorded, so don't respond to anything in an inappropriate manner unless...uh, never mind. Just don't."

The image of a rather serious looking man in a black robe appeared.

"The next ones are basically human, so I'll just rush through them."

I saw a man in a strange military outfit.

"Caladan."

The hologram changed to a fat man in a Hawaiian shirt.

"Earth. Self explanatory."

He showed an image of a woman in a shiny black bodysuit.

"Arakeem."

Rahevu. Nobnasaj. Geforav. Coonwu. Isnugi. Sekveh. Uzadotix. He apparently found these places trivial and unimportant.

The next ten minutes were a bewildering blur of zoological specimens.

The moment I had my hand raised to ask a question, the instructor would show a different alien or bring up a new detail, raising two more questions in my mind, and when I asked a question, he'd just say he'd explain it later. Eventually I gave up trying to ask anything.

After we had gotten through the list, the instructor made us open a program displaying policies.

"The laws of the galaxy are different than the ones on earth. There's going to be a lot of things you'll need to watch out for, and a lot of things you'll need to forget you've learned. First and foremost, financial laws differ from planet to planet. Some places have strict laws about how you can collect while others have no laws. We at DOGOS err on the side of caution, except in the cases where it doesn't make good business sense and we cannot compete."

And he went on lecturing for an hour. Despite being extraterrestrials, the material turned out to be surprisingly dry. I took notes the best he could, but most of it read like FCRA legislature and my eyes began to glaze over.

When Vuembi mentioned slavery, I bolted upright in my chair.

"As wrong as it sounds," he said. "Many planets do practice slavery. You will need to watch the prompts carefully to make sure you don't disclose information to them in non Darqul regions, or, in some instances, make sure you don't even talk to them."

"What if you customer is a slave?" I heard Zia asking.

"In those cases, we go by the laws of that region. In some cases, we wear special tags or transfer a special encoded symbol to verify the discussion. Again, I want you all to remember, be professional, no matter what they look like, what they're wearing, or what they're doing."

I furrowed my brow. "What kind of slaves are these?"

"All kinds," Vuembi said dryly.

And that's how deep it got.

For a moment, the classroom erupted in murmuring.

Behind me, I could hear Zia angrily muttering something about unjust evils and oppression and white devils, but when when a student in the seat next to her mentioned that they weren't black and had segmented eyes, she shut up.

"Now, let's go over the Edatro Niopid law," and he spent another hour talking about laws and policies.

"I feel like I've been studying a Warcraft textbook," someone complained. "This knowledge is completely useless."

Vuembi stuck out his chest. "I assure you, Mr. Stewart, that you will eventually use every bit of the knowledge you're receiving in class today, and will likely discover that you haven't studied nearly enough."

A cheat sheet was handed out for the test on major policies, then we commenced lessons on call control and a computer module.

After this, we got a brief language lesson, with some basics on conjugating verbs and noun forms that I didn't see the value of at all.

"Obviously," Vuembi said. "You're not going to learn an entire language in only two twenty four hour periods. Due to this fact, before you take your first calls, you are going to need the aid of a language assistant. How many of you are familiar with the Jandax?"

A few hands raised up.

I glanced around the room for the person who would be assisting the language calls, but didn't see anyone with an appropriately smug grin on their face.

"Right. Not many. Unfortunately, our client speaks nothing but Neepra. But not to worry. We have a special training aid which will be beneficial to you throughout your days of service with the company."

Victor carried around a cart containing a glass cage with a cat sized caterpillar-like insect with a ridged shell. Donning a pair of welding gloves and goggles, he took out a pair of tongs, jabbing them into the creature's back until the tongs came out with a wiggling slimy thing that looked like a slug and a centipede's love child. He then brought the thing up to the side of my face.

"Wait!" I protested. "What is that! What are you doing!"

"Relax!" said Victor. "It's the training aid! It'll only hurt a moment, then you'll be able to understand a million different languages!"

"I saw Wrath of Khan," I cried. "That thing can't be any good."

"Where do you think they got the idea from?" one of my classmates muttered.

Victor sighed. "It's not the same thing, kid. Look. If you don't put this in your ear, you're going to fail the calls, and be out of a job once we get back. Do you want to have to deal with that, or do you want a little alien earwig? To help you communicate?"

He was right. If I screwed this up, they could blackball me. I literally had nowhere to go.

Although I could speak some sort of strange language to Grace, and fluently, from what I gathered in all these lessons, it was not Neepra.

I already accepted the stupid policy about the diapers. If I really wanted this job, I'd have to bite the bullet and do what he said.

I swallowed. "Make it quick."

And so Victor shoved the slimy thing in my left ear, and I felt something slithering and digging around the skin, burrowing deeper and deeper into my ear canal until I felt a sharp shooting pain.

I screamed.

"Damn!" Victor blurted. "I forgot the anesthetic!"


	14. Chapter 15: Lungfish

After a few moments of searing pain, the creature settled into some unknown spot inside my inner ear, and I got used to the pain, calming down.

"Snaa pleihua?" Victor said, staring into my eyes. "Chicelinhua?"

"Jason," said Vuembi. "Ucugoshua. Snaa pleihua? Ucuk feutchik celini."

"My name is Jason and I'm a sissy faggot," said Victor.

"Hey!" I shouted. "First you tear up my ear with this damn earwig, then you insult me!"

"It's working!" Victor called.

"What?" I blinked, staring at the little man.

"Can you understand me?" Victor said.

I nodded angrily. "Do you think I'm stupid?"

Victor shrugged. "You tell me. I just told you a bunch of shit in Neepra and you understood everything I said, including what I'm saying now."

I blinked at him like a frog in a hailstorm.

"Of course, you're not replying right Half the time you're reverting to English, but at least we can tell it's working."

I stared at him. The damn thing actually worked!

"It itches," I grumbled.

"Tell me about it. Sometimes I feel like stabbing the fucking thing with an awl and scrubbing all that shit out of there once and for all."

He just shook his head. "The med lab has salves and stuff to pour in there if you need them."

The others got anesthetic before getting their creature.

Once everyone had an alien creature stuck deep inside their ears, Vuembi passed out phone headsets and little cards with names and login IDs on them.

"You will notice that there are names on each of these cards," said the instructor. "Your human names are too difficult to explain to our customers, so you will be using these from now on. Unlike your old names, your new identifiers are short, simple and professional."

I grimaced as I stared at my card. My new name was Beota.

"Beota, can you understand me?" the instructor asked.

"Guep," I groaned, not realizing I had just spoken in Neepra.

"Good," he said. "You're learning. You're going to have to switch brains to handle these calls. We'll be using English very infrequently, so you might as well shelve your English brain for the duration of our tour of service. In fact, this will be the last thing you'll hear from me in English for the duration of the class. I want you to get into the habit of communicating only in Neepra, Tafcar and Oprin, since, again, none of our customers know English."

"How am I supposed to figure out what language I'm speaking?" I asked.

"In Neepra please."

"How-" I started.

"No, it's `viravo.'"

"Viravo..." The rest of the statement rolled off my tongue without the slightest thought.

"Like that," Vuembi laughed.

"Neepra brain," I muttered in amazement. "Did you actually attach that thing to my brain?"

"In Neepra please."

I shook my head. "Did..."

Vuembi crossed his arms. "No. It's `bav.'"

I asked the question again in the other language.

Vuembi nodded. "The Jandax connects to you brain through nerves in your ear canal."

I swallowed hard. "And..what's..it feed on?"

"The same things your body feeds on," Vuembi said matter-of-factly. "Expect to be a lot hungrier at dinner."

We were shown how to access our scripts and information, then everyone got ready to take calls.

I hate phone headsets. They're itchy and they pin down my hair, making me itch more.

This particular headset looked like the standard model. Mostly. You had the outer part with the stereo earphones, and then you had the little microphone stalk. If you've never worked in a call center, they look a lot like those headsets people use in the Burger King drive through.

It wasn't the standard model.

Upon closer examination, I could see a small mouth inside the right earphone. A closed vaginal slit that pursed and wiggled as if alive.

As I stared at this thing, I watched in horror as a cluster of legs came creeping out like a hermit crab.

Disgusted, I dropped the thing on the floor.

"Pick it up," Vuembi said in a weary sigh. "It wont hurt you. It's just a Wuvju Interface to assist you in communicating with the client."

He made it seem like it were completely ordinary.

I had no choice in the matter. I had to obey. Shuddering, I picked the thing back up.

The moment I put the headset on my head, one of the earpieces swelled, and I felt little claws stretching out and clamping down over my ear.

There was a moment of uncomfortable stabbing and stretching, almost like the thing on the headset was having sex with the creature in my ear, then the two settled down, leaving a sensation like I had a tumor growing on my ear.

It has been my personal experience that you never face challenging phone calls during training. Fate is so mischievous that it will hide the crucial knowledge you actually need until a time when you could possibly get fired for not having it.

And so I sat idle for about six or seven minutes, waiting for a call.

At last, I saw a hologram of a thing that looked like a glowing jellyfish appear in front of me.

I stared at the thing in silence, trying to figure out what I was looking at.

Its multiple eyes blinked at me. "Hello?" A little sphincter beneath one of its eyes expanded and contracted as it spoke. "Is this DOGOS?"

Nauseated, I said, "Hi. Thank you for calling DOGOS. May I start with your name please?"

"It's Yaqe. I'd like to activate my Tepra card."

The whole situation was so unreal and ridiculous that I laughed.

"What's so funny?" the jellyfish creature said with annoyance.

Vuembi, who had been watching me the whole time, silently shook his head. His stern expression indicated that these calls were a hundred percent serious.

Not wanting to lose my job, I pretended I was playing a video game with a speaking component.

"Nothing's funny," I stammered. "Sorry."

I would have said "sir" or "ma'am", but it was a jellyfish, and I am no marine biologist.

"Please activate my Tepra card," the creature sighed.

"Sure." I said.

Vuembi prodded me to verify different things, basically repeating what I heard ten times in lectures. I activated the currency device, said the formal farewell script, and that was it.

After a long period of waiting, a couple more activation calls, and more waiting, our class was dismissed for lunch. Well, all but one guy who was busy trying to defuse a call and had to have Vuembi assist him.

The moment I stepped out the door, I found Victor dragging me down the hallway.

"What?" I said. "It's lunch. I haven't eaten yet."

He nodded. "You got to do this on an empty stomach. Especially since you've got that Jandax in your ear. If there's any adverse reaction, you'll thank me later."

I wasn't so sure I agreed, but I followed him down to the med lab, staring as a pair of three fingered hands drew a curtain around a semiconscious body with a bloody head. Before the curtain completely closed, I caught a glimpse of a diminutive purple form hunched over one side of the bed, poised with a needle.

Judging by the lamps and the rattle of metal instruments, it seemed to be a surgical operation.

At the front desk, apparently subbing for the two medics, I saw a blue skinned cat faced creature in a lab coat. This stranger had gills, and ears that looked like they belonged on a chihuahua. He was bald save for a single braided piece of hair attached to the base of his skull, a braid which terminated in a device connected to a USB plug.

The closest thing to a Na'vi I'd seen so far. I supposed they couldn't all be Luddites.

"Hello, Nobdar," Victor said. "Nice of you to show up!"

"I was observing Batlas," the stranger grumbled.

"Been observing a few cases of Mamnoc?"

"Is it that obvious?"

Victor laughed and shook his head. He pointed to the curtain. "What you got going on over there?"

"It's Rick. He thought he'd be clever and smash a beer bottle with his head. I've just finished cleaning up the blood."

The midget giggled and made tsk noises in response. "Listen, my friend. We need to get this guy fitted with a Bazrok."

"Another one?"

Victor shrugged.

"We just had it lay one a few minutes ago. It'll take it days, possibly weeks for it to make more. Are you sure you want to waste it on a new hire?"

"I don't want to risk a...seasoned employee on something like this. Trust me, this will save us revenue."

The blue guy gave the midget a skeptical look.

"Let me put it another way." Victor crossed his arms. "Right now, we don't even know what to do with this nerd. He wasn't even supposed to be here. I figure we might as well throw him out there, maybe see if he's useful for something."

"Better make it count!"

Nobdar gestured to an open bed. "Have him lie down over there. I'll get the Bazrok mother out of storage."

I stared at the stranger for a moment as he plugged his hair USB into the computer, but then Victor was dragging me over to a hospital bed with a rubber covering.

Nobdar stepped through a small door at the end of the room.

Feeling a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach, I got up on the slick surface, staring at the other patient's curtain as Sal and someone with a gravelly voice mumbled something about glass and stitches.

I waited, and waited, watching as the curtain came open and a a woozy looking gray haired guy with tattoos rolled off the bed, stumbling to the door. Then I waited some more.

"What time is it?" I muttered.

"You're exempt from class. Don't worry about it."

Victor glanced at the small door. "You might want to take off your clothes. This thing makes a mess." Then, apparently noticing my look of dismay, he added, "Don't worry. I won't look."

"Seriously."

He gave me a look like I were stupid. "Kid, why do you think we're using the rubber bed? Of course I'm being serious! If you want clothes caked with slime, be my guest. I'm just saying, it might be a good idea..."

I just stared at him.

"My recommendation: At least take off your shirt."

With a sigh, I stripped to my diaper, setting the clothes on a supply cabinet nearby. "Do I at least get a gown?"

He laughed. "No."

I sighed in frustration.

A few minutes later, I saw the blue guy marching up to the bed with a glass tube containing a big squirming bug with rows of glowing eyes running down the sides of its body. A forked tail snapped back and forth at the end of its centipede-like body, oozing with translucent glop.

Seeing the thing coming toward me, I sat up, attempting to slip out of the bed, but Victor pushed me back. "You want to go outside, you gotta breathe the air."

I paled. "Then maybe I don't want to go outside."

I tried to leave again, but then the female elf came over and pushed me down on the rubber mattress. "Stay where you are, scrawny."

"C'mon, don't be a pussy," Victor said. "It ain't gonna hurt you."

As I stared at the thing, wondering if it weren't as bad as I thought, I felt a handcuff snap around my wrist.

The elf smiled.

"Hey!" I shouted at her. "What's the big idea!"

And then I found my other wrist being handcuffed.

"I just love S&M," she joked.

"Dammit!" I cried. "What is this! Call Center of the Pod People or something?"

"Don't worry," Victor said in a zombie voice. "It will all feel better in a minute." And then he burst out laughing.

"That's not funny," I growled.

"You've already got a creature sticking tubes up your brain. If we wanted pod people, you'd be part of our army right now."

"This will only hurt for a second," Sal moaned like a zombie.

They both laughed.

"Is he more your type?" Victor muttered.

Sal stuck out her tongue. "I like my men with larger muscles. And that sunken rib cage - ugh!"

"You know you like him."

"Only as much as I like little men who aren't tall enough to serve as a leg of a coffee table."

"So there is a chance!"

She rolled her eyes.

The blue guy laid the scary creature on my bare chest with the tail end pointing in the direction of my chin.

The translucent slime oozed across my naked skin, tricking into the cracks of my armpits, dribbling down into my navel.

I stared at the thing as it slowly undulated upwards, rear first, its rows of tiny feet unpleasantly tickling their way over my clavicle area, gaining purchase at the pit of my throat.

I shuddered as it pawed its way over my Adam's apple, crawling over the crest of my chin.

The creature suddenly stopped, and I felt its feet digging into my skin, like it were trying to bury itself inside.

I squirmed and thrashed against the handcuffs, shaking my head in attempts to dislodge it, but then I felt hands pressing down on my wrists and legs, one holding my chin straight, and a chorus of voices shouted for me to stay still.

The ooze had a numbing effect. I felt a tingling sensation everywhere it dried, numb at the armpits, numb along select areas around the breast, numb around the belly, a black hole of sensation in the middle of my belly, and the deadening tingle I felt around my elastic waistband was like the beginnings of some sort of chemical castration.

The creature backed up further, pumping a glob of slime over my chin, coating my rigidly clamped mouth.

It climbed higher. Prongs of its forked tail hooked on the corners of my lips, pulling them open.

I screamed, but it came out as a gurgling sound when the creature squished its body together, dropping a big squirming object into my mouth.


	15. Chapter 16: Pandora mission 1

As this slimy glob filled my throat and nearly choked me, the blue guy leaned over my chest, shoving a white breathing tube down my throat, to the point of making me feel like gagging.

I gurgled in protest, squirming as...oozing blob made its way down alongside the, and then it felt like a gallon of liquid was filling my lungs.

I felt the need to cough, but everything felt numb. Every time I tried it, it only came out as sort of a strangled chuckling sound.

At last, someone removed the beast from my neck, and then everyone just stared at me, waiting for something to happen.

I coughed, but it was unproductive. It felt like something was lodged in there and wouldn't come out.

A suffocating feeling washed over me and I began wheezing and gasping for air. Light headed and dizzy, I glanced out of the corner of my eye and saw the blue guy throwing some sort of switch.

I heard a hissing sound, then felt an odd sense of relief as I inhaled something...that didn't feel quite right.

The blue guy threw the switch again, and the suffocating feeling returned.

"He can breathe cyanide," I heard Victor saying. "We're done."

"Not quite," the blue guy replied. "He has to be able to breathe oxygen while in the building and when he returns to base. He's going to have to stay here until the Bazrok develops its valve adequately."

"And how long will that be?"

The blue man shrugged. "You've given me an asthmatic. As long as it takes."

And so I laid there for what seemed like forever, alternating between suffocation and breathing comfortably as Nobdar threw the switch back and forth. I shuddered as I felt weird throbbing sensations traveling through my lungs, struggling weakly against the handcuffs.

After several more minutes of this, the suffocating feeling stopped, and the doctor was pulling the tube out of my throat.

"We're done?" I gasped.

"Yes. You're breathing oxygen, and you should be able to switch to cyanide outside."

I coughed and sat up, staring at Victor, who had been occupying his time playing Angry Birds on a phone.

I stared at him. "How is it possible for you to play that? Are there phone networks out here?"

Instead of replying, he said, "Oh good. You're done. You pretty much missed the whole class."

I wasn't terribly upset about that. Almost dying puts a lot of things in perspective.

"Since you've probably filled your diaper twice by now, I'd like to turn your attention to the waste disposal units along the back wall."

I just rolled my eyes, impatiently staring at my so-called `doctors' in hopes they would hurry up with their business.

During my brief struggle for life, Sal had been busy doing something on the computer, but now she was marching up to my rubber bed, waving a little device at me. "Heart rate normal. Blood pressure normal. No heart or liver damage."

"Good," said the blue man.

The elf gave me a pleasant smile, but I wondered if it were merely the standard nurse's facade. "Well, Mr. Finch, it looks like your implant is working!" Her tone was buoyant, perhaps condescending. "We've just successfully added a Bazrok to your lungs. In case you didn't know already, a Bazrok is a symbiote that bonds to your alveoli to change cyanide into oxygen. As a symbiote, it needs to feed on something, so you'll notice that your metabolism has increased. You will be hungrier sooner and you'll be wanting strange things. Palukan and other wild game actually provide necessary components, provided you remove their poison sacs beforehand. Let me or another one of the medical staff know immediately if your body rejects the implant."

"Palukan?" I said. "What's that?"

Victor frowned. "Seriously? The guy who's making cracks about Grace Augustine doesn't know what a Palukan is?"

"So it's like a weird horse," I said.

Sal nodded. "There's a whole carcass in the walk in freezer," she smirked. "They'll probably serve it tomorrow."

"The Bazrok feeds on the same material that your Jandax does. Like any bodily organ, it derives its nourishment from matter in your bloodstream."

"Of course," Sal said. "That's an oversimplification, since you probably know that the human lungs distribute air to the various cells, which makes it less of a leech than your translator."

"It's still a leech," Victor muttered. "It's just a more useful one."

"You're going to be hungry a lot."

"All right, newby," Victor said, motioning for me to move. "Come with me. We've got a job to do."

And so I got dressed and followed the midget down the hallway, taking the route I originally took to get to the Sprint break room.

As we reached the top of the stairs in the empty call center room, I pointed to the desks with their unattended computers and phones. "Does anyone use these things?"

"That's our backup system," Victor shrugged. "During our early days, we used these stations for our business, but the client started requiring holographic technology, so we aren't supposed to use them anymore except for training and times when the system goes down. You'll notice that these desks all come with Varvoxes."

When that comment drew a blank look, he added, "You know, that super secret proprietary device you were fucking with in my cubicle."

I told him I hadn't done anything to it, but he just said "Right!" and stomped over to the door.

He had to get on his tiptoes and pull the handle to get the door open, like a little kid. I would have helped him, but there are certain things a male adult wants to do out of pride, regardless of height, so I didn't say anything. I just watched him shove the thing open like it were a massive portcullis on some large castle, following him as he waddled out into the hall.

As I neared the break room, it took me a minute to notice the addition of a new wall. I stared at it, dumbfounded.

"Did you get rid of Sprint?" I blurted.

Victor rolled his eyes. "I wish!"

I still didn't get it. "Are the employees walled up inside there or something?"

My companion burst out laughing. With a mischievous grin, he rapped on the concrete, then yelled, "Hey! You guys! How are you holding up in there!"

He pressed his ear to the wall, so I did too.

No answer. When I knocked, it sounded solid, not hollow, and there were no call center sounds that I could detect.

Victor chuckled. "I can see why they hired you now! You're the comic relief!"

I crossed my arms. "C'mon! What happened to the Sprint department?"

Victor frowned. "They're busy taking calls. On earth." He motioned to the exit. "Let's go."

I told him to wait, because I needed something to drink.

He sighed. "Fine, fine. I'll be out front. Hurry, will ya?"

Nodding, I dashed over to the water fountains in the hallway near the restrooms.

When I returned from my swig of water, I suddenly noticed Harry standing by the window, staring out.

"So Shortie's got you running errands outside, is he?"

I shrugged. "Looks like it."

"Good luck with that!"

He rolled up his sleeve, exposing a strange looking purple-brown growth branching up and down his arm like a second set of veins. "Got that on the Dagobah expedition."

I furrowed my brow. "Dagobah? Like the planet Yoda lives on?"

Harry chuckled. "Sort of. It _is_ a swamp planet, but The Force isn't actually real. Well, not real enough to allow you to levitate rocks with your mind. And those snakes..." He whistled through his teeth. "They get pretty nasty over there. Sal patched me up the best she could, but she couldn't get this thing removed without killing me."

I sighed. "Sorry to hear that."

"Anyways, I swore off of those trips after that."

I nodded.

"I noticed you've found a new lady friend," he said as he drank from a bottle of tea.

"Uh yeah. She's nice."

"I think she'll definitely give you an extra hand with..._whatever you're into_," he laughed.

He sipped his drink. "It looks like the guys are briefing outside. You'd better join them."

With a nod, I hurried through the security door, out into a field of squirming grass, staring at the blinking vines and unusually geometric foliage.

Feeling a tug on my pant leg, I followed Victor further across the field, until we reached a clearing where a group of figures huddled around a drawing in the dirt.

As I came closer, I noticed Brian, still dressed like a young Republican, squatting on one end, pointing to a box on the corner of the diagram, while Sam and the IT guy sat on their knees, staring intently at what was depicted.

Sam wore green-purple camo gear, like he were doing covert ops in Barney's house. The IT guy had on heavy chain mail, making him look like an overweight version of the knight from _The Last Crusade_. Snaker squatted next to them, clad in his usual street clothes.

The figure in chain mail pointed to a box framed in circles and wavy lines. "The hummer is here. It's turned on its side and the windows are broken because the Ikrans thought it was a female. You'd think they would have left it alone, but it seems they're too stupid for that.

"What we need is a distraction." He pointed to a circle next to the box. "Someone has to climb this ridge over here to break open our Eau de Ikran here," He stabbed a spot on the dirt. "Or on the other side of this swamp to the left, if the wind isn't going that way." He gestured to a wavy line. "The exploded pheromone bomb should distract them long enough for us to free the Hummer and get out of there."

"Right," said Victor. "Once those Ikrans clear out, we'll need to get in there with cleaning chemicals and odor neutralizers so we can safely set up the jacks."

"So who's going to get juice detail?" said Sam.

"You spoke first," said the IT guy.

"No way. I threw the stuff last time. They almost chewed my arm off!"

The midget jabbed a finger in my direction. "Greenhorn will do it." And then I'm being slapped on the back.

"What!" I cried.

"Sorry, kid," Victor said. "You get sex juice detail."

I reddened. "I got what?"

Giving me this look like it were something completely ordinary, he said, "You're going to take a big ball full of Ikran vagina and break it open in a field so we can get to the Hummer."

"Shit," I muttered, causing my companions to laugh.

"Ready?" Snaker said.

"Let's do this thing," said Sam.

Snaker stood up, running around to the corner of the building.

"Where's he going?" I asked.

"He's getting the pussy juice."

A few minutes later, I saw Snaker carrying a large canvas bag over his shoulder. When he reached the group, he set it down, handing out weapons and ammo.

While the rest of the group got guns, I only got a hunting knife and a bag containing a big silver ball, cleaning supplies and a pile of aerosol spray cans.

The IT guy stood up and took out a small device, pushing some buttons. After staring at it for a minute, he pointed into the woods and marched ahead.

"All right," said Victor. "Cel phones everybody."

"What good will that be?" I asked. "You just keeping time or something? Trying to save on flashlights?"

"No," said Sam. "We're going to call Dominoes, and they're going to load a bunch of pizzas into this great big rocketship and drop them off by the Hummer. Then, while the Ikrans are all busy ripping open boxes, _and the delivery guy_, we can each grab part of the bumper and drag it to safety. Of course, we'll all have to stand in the right spot, and dial the number at the same exact time..."

"It's an app," Victor sighed. "It's called Archeron. Steve made it to track down lifeforms. It uses the GPS satellite to locate heat signatures, and vehicles if we're lucky. It's about the only thing these phones are good for besides Angry Birds and Tetris."

"It took me hours to program it," Steve said. "Especially the part that differentiates between hot jungle plants and blue mutants."

"Sometimes it still gives you jungle plants," Sam shrugged.

"Nobody's perfect."

"Great," Victor groaned. "Now I'm hungry. Thanks, Sam."

Sam laughed. "Glad I could help!"

I followed my team through grass and blinking weeds, between trees with growths like fish and alligator scales

I saw a white shirt and tie out of the corner of my eye.

Brian.

He must have noticed that I was still getting adjusted to the creature in my lungs, for he turned to me and said, "How's it going, Mr. Finch? Feeling strong?"

When I worked for Convergys, people confused my essential tremor condition with simple nervousness. Bosses would sit down with me and tell me to calm down when I was already calm.

Then Brian would see me in the hallway and ask me if I were feeling strong in that gay sounding Joel Osteen voice.

Annoyed, I just rolled my eyes and said yes.

We entered a vast field of plants flowering with multicolored spheres that looked like gumballs.

My mouth watered as I stared at them. Hungry as I was, I reached down to pick one up, but Victor slapped it out of my hands.

"Don't," he hissed. "Are you familiar at all with the concept of priapism?"

I swallowed. "Uh..."

"The last guy who ate one of those things couldn't pee for an entire week. They had to do surgery to drain the blood accumulation."

I frowned at the plants in disgust.

"Also, I've heard it doesn't actually taste like candy," Sam added. "Right, Victor?"

"Shut up!"

I couldn't tell if they were joking or not.

"Actually," said Steve. "I heard the guy quit out of embarrassment."

"Lies!" Victor pointed at Sam. "He's right there!"

"Oh, you're just mad because I'm getting it up and you're not."

"And what would you know about it?"

"The wife of the guy it happened to," Steve continued. "She joined a convent. Swore off sex completely."

"I'm telling you, it's Victor! My girlfriend would stay for the whole performance."

The chunky Grail knight stopped suddenly, raising a pudgy hand in the air.

"Now you're getting it confused. You're actually talking about my girlfriend."

"Quiet!" the IT guy hissed, pointing at a mass of leathery wings. Huddled together beneath a tree with bark like alligator scales, the creatures reminded me of vultures feeding on a corpse, except this corpse had a license plate.

"I got a question," I muttered to Victor. "How many days ago did that stuff get all over the hummer?"

"Five."

"Shouldn't they have figured out it's not a female by now?"

"They have brains the size of golf balls," Victor shrugged. "Plus, since we've had all these males spreading their scent around, it seems they've attracted some females, so it's becoming sort of a breeding ground."

"Does that mean we need the male stuff too?"

Victor looked horrified. "I hope not! The last thing I want to do is sit around stroking Ikran dicks!"

"Oh you know you'd like it," Sam joked.

"Shut up!"

Steve dug a small pinwheel out of his pocket, letting it spin in the wind for a second.

"East," he said, pointing to a distant tree to his left. "Go over there and break open the pheromone."

Victor pulled the sphere out of my bag, pushing a button on the side. "It's unlocked now. If you drop it, or even jostle it a little, you're going to have Ikran juice all over you. Be warned."

I grimaced. "Great."

Steve stared at his phone. "The way looks clear. There might be a couple orwad vipers in the grass, but they should leave you alone if you don't step on them."

"Wonderful," I groaned.

"Go!" Victor cried.

Sighing, I crept across the field in the direction of the tree, making extra care not to jostle the ball.

When I looked back, I saw nobody else moving. They were all waiting on me to finish the job.

As I came within ten yards of the tree, I suddenly noticed their motions becoming animated, waving their arms in an exaggerated fashion.

Baffled, I shook my head and shouted, "All right! I'm going as fast as I can!"

Suddenly, I saw an army of blue pig headed bodies bursting from the ground and the surrounding foliage, with spears and bows raised and ready for attack.

"Shit!"


	16. Chapter 17: Dino

They were rushing forward with alarming speed, nocking arrows and hefting spears as they darted into the open.

Seeing the oncoming chaos, I turned to flee.

When I noticed something big and unyielding in my peripheral vision, I did the only thing I could think of. I ran toward the opening parallel to the tree, in the direction of the Hummer.

I'd only gotten a few yards when I saw another blue figure pop out of the ground in front of me, aiming a bow.

Peeing my diaper in surprise, I responded by hurling the ball in the creature's swine face, causing it to squeal and launch its arrow into a mound of dirt near the tree.

The disgusting yellow slop that smelled like rotten bagels and jasmine splashed back on me as it coated my assailant.

I pushed my way past the creature in haste, breaking into a run as I frantically brushed my shirt and pants in attempts to remove the pheromone.

A moment later, a cloud of leathery bodies filled the air, and I felt something knocking me down.

Afraid that something worse would happen, I pulled off my shirt and threw it aside.

I saw my shirt disappear, and the cloud of leathery wings took off uphill, filling the air with confused squealing sounds.

Eager to get out of harm's way, I ran downhill as fast as I could make my legs go.

Hearing the soft popping of silencers and seeing the dirt explode nearby, I ducked, watching with anxious dread as my friends fired at a mob of blue pigs with spears.

Not wanting to get hurt, I crawled on my hands and knees across the field, hoping and praying that no loose ammunition came my way.

I made it past the line leading to the Hummer, within seven yards of my team, when the dirt exploded in my face.

When I looked up, I saw Sam gesturing for me to stay put, so I laid still.

I would have stayed there, but then something latched onto my leg.

When I looked down, I saw it was an ikran, but a small one, roughly the size of a grown German shepherd.

The thing didn't look that threatening, and rather adorable, so I tried gently pushing it off.

It didn't work.

Frustrated, I tried using my fists, but the creature didn't react to my punches.

"C'mon! Get off of me!" I groaned, pulling its head back.

The creature only whimpered and nuzzled its beak against my pant leg.

Hearing the shots and squealing noises stopping, I turned my head and saw my coworkers standing over a pile of blue bodies, and a bald headed figure with a red shirt spraying something on the Hummer.

Seeing the coast was clear, I stood up, shaking my leg in hopes of dislodging the creature. When that didn't work, I took off my pants, which seemed to distract the thing enough for me to get away.

"Why is it that every time I see you, you've got your pants off?" Victor asked.

I shrugged, turning pink. "It's not my fault. That little guy won't leave me alone."

I pointed to the creature gnawing on my pants.

Victor laughed. "Would you like me to shoot it?"

"No!" I protested. "It's cute. I just don't want it stuck on my leg!"

The creature suddenly looked up from the pants, squawking at me. The next moment, the thing was parked in front of my feet, butting me on the bare leg.

"Hey!" I laughed as it butted again. I petted it, and the creature squawked in response.

All of a sudden, the thing shot into the air, tackling me to the ground. It barked, licking me in the face.

"All right, rump ranger," Victor grumped as he threw me my pants, along with some rags, bottles and a spray can. "Enough fooling around. Help Snaker with clean up."

I got myself decent, attacking a blob of yellow scum on the vehicle's roof with a bottle of Lysol All Purpose and a bathroom scrubber.

I spent the next two hours clearing caked on slime from the sideways vehicle.

My little friend, in the meantime, had taken to filling his stomach with parts of the blue corpses, particularly the eyes and other soft areas.

My stomach had been aching, but the sight and smell the Ikran's feast quashed my appetite. My only consolation was that it at least wasn't as noisy as it had been a few minutes before.

"Hungry?" Snaker said as I was scouring around a door.

I shrugged.

"You know," he said, scrubbing the frame of a shattered window with foam and a brush. "I think there's a lockbox of food in the trunk, if the Ikrans haven't gotten to it."

After scrubbing away the broken glass, I crawled into the the trunk, where a battered metal box lay sideways in a pile of dried slime. Upon turning the box over, I discovered that the thing was so dented and caved in that nothing short of wire cutters and a wielding torch would open it. Sighing, I set to work scrubbing out the interior.

As I worked my way down the back seat, I heard something thump on the floor beside me. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the unmistakable shape of my new pet.

For a few moments, its cyclops eye peered at me with curiosity, but then, as I continued my task, it pawed around the wall panel in a circle and laid down, snoring softly in a corner.

Once I had completed the scouring of a rear passenger seat, the creature's eye popped open wide, and it pointed its beak at the trunk, breaking into a frantic squawking fit.

Five minutes after that, I heard the sound of an engine.

Overwhelmed with curiosity, I poked my head through the broken window up top, staring at the rear end of an idling pickup.

"Hey!" I shouted. "Where'd that come from!"

"Storage!" Sam called.

"I don't get it. Why couldn't we have used that before?"

"We only got five barrels of gas," a voice said behind me. "And this Hummer takes half that just to get to Hell's Gate and back."

"I see they've brought a barrel with them."

"Yep." Apparently no further explanation was required.

"There's really a Hell's Gate?" I asked.

"That movie isn't all bullshit," said Snaker. "They may have gotten one or two things right, but I sure as hell wouldn't run away with Neytiri. She's a double bagger."

He paused. "Of course, you like Qozisas , so maybe I shouldn't say anything."

I frowned, but didn't acknowledge the comment with a reply.

In the back of the pickup, I suddenly noticed a fat buzz cut figure sitting like a bump on top of the tool compartment.

It was Bruce. My old boss. I was sure of it.

"Hey!" I shouted, climbing out.

I climbed out of the Hummer, my pet following close on my heels.

Jogging to the side of the pickup, I called, "Hey! Do I know you?"

The fat pointed at his chest in confusion. "Huh? Me?"

"Bruce?" I said.

"Hey!" he laughed. "Still driving home to take those really long lunch breaks?"

When I worked on the Convergys project, I had once gotten lost after I'd driven to the secondary office to get my photo ID taken. When I returned to the correct address, Bruce had chided me for it.

I rolled my eyes. "I don't know. Maybe?"

He threw me a heavy chain with a hook attached to the end. "Here. Make yourself useful. Stick this on the underside of that behemoth."

Sighing, I said, "I see you're doing the same thing you did at Convergys."

"Oh yeah? And what's that?"

"Sitting on your butt while everyone else works."

He didn't look the least bit upset about that comment. "You'd do the same thing if you were in my position."

A few moments later, we were towing the vehicle to an upright position.

At first, my Ikran fought against the strange machine, but when he failed to destroy the rear bumper, he settled down and let the humans work.

Soon we were making final touches, cleaning up the last bits of slime from minor areas that really didn't affect much of anything.

Victor climbed into the front seat, tossing me a couple sandwiches in baggies. "You probably noticed you're missing dinner. Admittedly, it's not much, but I didn't have time to bring a full course meal."

I opened the bags, tearing into the sandwiches while Snaker and the others in the pickup started on their own.

As I was diving into my second sandwich and trying hard not to let my pet snatch it from my hand, Victor squeezed into the back of the vehicle, and I heard him fumbling around with something.

I heard yelling, then banging, then sparks flew up from behind the seat.

There was an unpleasant sound of creaking metal, then I saw a cluster of mangled rectangular packages being passed over the seat.

"What's that?" I said as I took them.

"Protein bars. Granola bars. Beef jerky. It's probably all expired, but if you're hungry, eat up."

As I chewed on a stale protein bars, watching a lanky Mexican guy manually pumping fuel into our vehicle, I heard the rear passenger door sliding open.

Turning around, I saw a narrow, well muscled green and orange dappled body climbing aboard, admiring the well toned hips and thighs as they close to me.

The orange spots hadn't been apparent to me in that dimly lit building, but they accented her figure quite nicely.

I chewed on a piece of beef jerky, forcing my eyes upwards. A Nextel phone had been clipped to the upper part of her harness, making occasional chirps and monotone mutterings.

"No shirt today?" Ibira said.

"I dunno," I mumbled as I swallowed the jerky.

"Did it get too hot, or is this your normal fighting attire?"

I shrugged, looking into one of her eyes. "It was either this, or be molested by crazy pterodactyls. I was lucky to keep my pants. The pheromone was everywhere."

She giggled. "I heard what you did. It was very brave."

The phone chirped again, explaining how she acquired the knowledge. I wondered why I didn't have one, but maybe it was just as well. It probably would have disappeared with my clothing.

She glanced in the trunk. "Who's your friend?"

"Dino." I'd been tossing the name around since the first time it knocked me to the ground and licked my face.

She gave me a blank look.

"Flintstones. It's a cartoon."

She looked at me like I were an idiot. "I know. But your pet has wings."

I grimaced. "It's more about the personality."

"I see," she smirked.

"So what are you doing out here?"

"I wanted some fresh air." As she rested her chin in one left hand to gaze into my eyes, I felt the fingers of her other left brushing against the side of my ribs. "Plus they wanted me to help reclaim Hell's Gate."

"We're doing a raid?" I blinked.

She shrugged. "That's why they brought me out here."

Still not completely comfortable with her touching my body, I grabbed her roving left.

I was going to brush it away, but I decided to hold it instead. Boyfriend-like.

She smiled, lowering her hand.

I felt an electric thrill as the back of my fingers brushed against her thigh.

"A little help?" someone called.

With a nod, Ibira climbed out, and I followed.

"What's this about?" I asked Victor.

Without a word, he and Sam pulled a thick piece of sheet metal out of the truck bed, dragging it over to the Hummer. Sam brought out a wielding torch, and I was instructed to hold the sheet in place while they attached it. I believe that arc wielding is supposed to be done with face shielding, but nobody seemed to care. I made sure my face was turned away and hoped for the best.

"Why are we using chain mail?" I asked Sam. "Shouldn't we use something stronger like plate metal against those things?"

"We have guns," said Snaker. "It's easier to shoot bullets through chain mail."

"Wouldn't it also be easier for them to shoot us that way?"

"Gun beats arrow, and bullets don't get caught in rings that size."

For the next half hour, I helped Victor and the others wielding metal plates to the Hummer as Ibira and the others bolted down chain mail and soldered metal plates over the window panes.

Once that was done, we boarded, the engine started up, and we were rolling.

Ibira held my hand again.

I started worrying about the mission. "Do we have a strategy, or are we making it up as we go along?"

Still holding my hand, she opened a pouch on her harness, handing me a photocopy of a scribble on a piece of notebook paper.

"The perimeter is full of landmines and razor wire. Holes have been cut in the fencing , but it's unwise to use it. Our best strategy is through the gate in the front face, or cut across the helicopter pads. The razorbacks don't like technology, so we're hoping they left it deserted."

I stared at the map, letting go of her hand as I clenched the paper with shaking fingers. "You'd think that an army of blue pigs with spears wouldn't be able to conquer a base with this much military equipment," I said.

"You saw the movie. It was espionage. Well, espionage and biological agents."

I stared at her in bafflement. "They used germ warfare?"

Ibira shrugged. "The southern tribe in the movie is actually a metaphor for biological attack."

"Is it safe now?"

"Yes. The structure has been occupied continuously since the Skolly incident. The problem is that we don't have the numbers or the strategy to retain the territory."

"But we don't have the numbers now," I protested. "What good are we going to do taking the place over again?"

"Admittedly, not much, but at least we have strategies to avoid the mistakes of our predecessors."

"Not wearing clunky spacesuits is a good start," Snaker said from the front seat.

"Are we just going to drive through the gates, then?" I asked.

She shrugged. "Basically."

A few minutes later, I saw the foliage disappear, and I was staring through the chain mail at a gray cube framed in fences and razor wire.

The blackened remains of guard towers stood at four corners of the complex, framed by demolished cannons, overturned vehicles, and what appeared to be a collection of silver statues of mutilated arthritis sufferers.

We passed a weather cracked helicopter pad, watching the fence loom closer.

The mechanical features of the statues became more pronounced, a series of defaced hydraulic limbs, carrion nests and broken glass. Then I saw the cluster of blue pigs.

A moment later, there were arrowheads sticking through the chain mail, and I was being handed a gun.


	17. Chapter 18: Hell's Gate

Everyone up front started firing through the chain mail.

I frowned at the gun in my hands. Heavy, new looking, virtually identical to any other gun, as far as I was concerned. The only time I'd really seen a gun up close was on TV, unless you count B.B. guns.

"Is there a problem?" Ibira asked.

"I've never used a real gun before. The closest I've come is rifle shooting practice at Scout camp. I always missed the target."

She snatched the gun out of my hands, firing a hole through a blue figure standing outside.

"Does that help?"

"I...I don't know," I stammered.

She offered me the gun.

"That's okay," I said. "I'll waste ammunition. Keep it."

She didn't argue. She just fired at another blue guy.

Soon the Hummer was inside the fence, bumping over a pile of blue bodies.

"This hardly seems fair," I said as the hummer rolled down along a wide concrete wall. "They have bows and arrows and spears. We have guns and chain mail."

"We were lucky," said Ibira. "The Razorbacks have brought down helicopters before. They gained occupation of this entire base for a reason." She pointed through the window frame. "Look at what they did to that robot."

The battered remains of a huge metal statue lay in a disorderly heap a few yards away from the wall.

I figured that was pretty impressive, provided that those things actually had been robots at some point. "So you don't...mind killing them?"

"This is not genocide," she said. "It is a military action. As long as I am not killing them in their homes, I don't see this as wrong."

I frowned, but didn't disagree. It's not like they're human, I thought.

The Hummer stopped outside the rear of the complex, its rumbling engine falling silent.

"Now what?" I asked.

"Now we go in."

The doors opened and we all climbed out, following Victor past a massive garage door and down an adjacent wall a few yards until we came to a security door.

I watched as he tried various keys in the lock.

When he finally got the right one and turned it in the lock, the door opened before he finished turning the handle.

"Shit!" he shouted as a dozen blue figures burst out into the open, armed with daggers, spears and other nasty looking weapons. The creatures oinked and squealed angrily, eager to attack anything within their reach.

A moment later, Pablo, the guy who had been pumping gas earlier, was on the ground with a stab wound in his back.

Someone shoved me to the ground, and I heard gunshots.

Clouds of dirt exploded all around me. Someone screamed.

The feet of coworkers and enemies kicked and stomped my prone form.

Something blue bumped into me, then I felt a heavy body tumbling across my back.

A shot was fired so close to my head that it made my ears ring.

At last things calmed down, and I shakily got to my feet, taking in my surroundings.

My coworkers had survived. Looking bruised, wounded and beaten, they stood on a pile of dead bodies, with Snaker hunched over and screaming as he attempted to remove an arrow from his shin. As he sawed around the arrowhead with a switchblade, the splintery shaft wiggled around in the wound, causing him to wince and grimace in agony. I quickly looked away.

Steve told me to get the first aid kit from the Hummer, so I hurried back the way I came.

I arrived at the vehicle only to find myself surrounded by blue beasts.

Someone grabbed me, pinning him to the side of the vehicle, while another drew a dagger, ready to slash my throat. Their rancid, putrid breath nearly made me gag as they gurgled something or another to me in their guttural tongue.

My universal translator turned out to be not so universal after all. I had no clue what they were saying, or what they wanted, other than me dead.

I panicked, striking out with my fists and feet, flinging my hands and my body in any way that I could to get away from my assailants.

A few moments later, I found myself stumbling towards my coworkers with the metal box in hand, wondering how exactly I got there, and why there weren't any blue guys following me.

Brian grinned at me. "That was awesome how you used the first aid kit as a weapon. Real resourceful. I think you scared them away."

I blinked at him in surprise, still not entirely sure about what had just happened. "I did?"

He nodded. "That was really cool. You knocked out that big gang of Razorbacks with nothing but the kit and Kung Fu moves. I saw the whole thing."

I gave him a sheepish grin. "I...well, I used to take karate."

"I don't get it, though. Why didn't you use those moves on Snaker a few days ago?"

Turn the other cheek, I thought. I could hear my dad saying those same words. "I...guess..I didn't believe he was, actually going to kill me...like these guys. Besides, I figured I was in the wrong that time."

Snaker screamed. Apparently, Ibira had been helping him with his wound as we had been talking.

"Don't be a baby," she said as she finished sawing off the ends of the arrow.

"Oh yeah? Just wait until they shoot you and you have to pull that damn thing out!"

"Been there, done that."

She yanked the arrow out, causing him to scream again.

"Lady, you have a lousy bedside manner!"

"And you have a lousy antiperspirant!" She opened a pouch on her harness, pulling out a small jar.

"What's that?" Snaker asked.

"Podomian maggots."

"Oh hell no. Don't be putting that shit in me!"

"It's the most efficient way to remove the wood splinters and infected areas."

"Keep that shit the hell away from me. Just pour in some of that medical foam and hand me the gauze."

With a shrug, she did so.

"Your chest is bleeding," Sam said to me.

I looked down and saw a slash mark across my chest. I hadn't even noticed it before. "I don't think it's fatal."

But Ibira was giving me this look like she wanted to help, so I nodded to her.

My wound was just a surface cut, but I volunteered to let her put maggots in it anyway, just to impress her.

We spent the next few minutes treating and bandaging wounds.

"Should we bother going in?" I asked. "I mean, there might be more of those things inside."

Victor chuckled. "Just use your Kung Fu. We'll be fine."

"Ha ha." I frowned.

Now that the immediate area was clear, Victor propped the back door open with a broken robot foot, allowing me a full view of the inside hallway. It was narrow and lined with closed doors. I could see no movement in the dim corridor except for the motion of our own shadows.

As I was helping Ibira tape gauze over my wounds, I noticed a small leathery shape poking around the door frame, its beady little head snapping right and left as it sniffed the air.

A moment later, it disappeared inside.

"Dino!" I shouted. "Hey!"

I finished taping up, hurrying through the doorway.

Victor grabbed my pant leg to stop me, because he wasn't tall enough to grab my shoulder. "Let it go," he said. "Unlike us, their species has successfully survived on this planet for thousands of years. He'll be okay."

I leaned further into the hallway. "Dino!" I shouted.

"Quiet," Victor hissed. "You'll summon the whole army!"

I sighed in frustration, going back outside.

Once the bandaging had finished, we sat on the ground, staring in the doorway.

"So what's the plan?" I asked.

"Well," said Victor. "I suppose we should do a sweep of each room as we go in, then set up stations at each checkpoint until we figure out if the building is secure."

"Sounds like a plan," said Sam.

As everyone got up, filing into the entrance, I suddenly saw a winged shape flapping towards me with a large rectangular box in its claws.

"Dino?"

The Ikran squawked, dropping its payload at my feet, a white first aid kit.

I held it up, showing it to Victor.

"Hey! Look at this!" he laughed. "Maybe we won't be making steaks out of him after all!"

After we secured a pair of offices, Dino disappeared again, returning with a box of Ding Dongs and a clawful of Twinkies.

"What do you make of that?" I asked Victor. "Would you consider that an olive branch?"

He didn't seem to get the biblical reference. "No. I'd consider that a box of Ding Dongs."

"No, I mean would you call that an all clear?"

"A box of Ding Dongs is a box of Ding Dongs. "I don't care if he brings back a holy fleece covered in dew and a steaming mug of hot chocolate. I'm still checking for enemy strongholds."

The Ikran vanished again.

Ibira pointed to a door. "Jason and I will sweep this room over here."

Victor looked at me and laughed. "She's got four arms and vicious hunting skills, my friend. I suggest you get out of that leash while you still can!"

Reddening, I said nothing, following Ibira through the door.

We strolled through a hallway lined with lockers and racks of space suits.

Seeing a gray uniform shirt hanging on a coat rack, I threw it on. It wasn't a very good fit, the sleeves being a bit too short, the bottom stopping a few inches above my belt, but it was a shirt.

I'm not a thief. I wouldn't have taken that shirt had I not known that the owner is probably dead, and even if he wasn't, I rationalized, I could always dry clean it and give it back.

Ibira smirked. "You humans are always so preoccupied with clothes."

The name on the lapel said General Querritch. I felt rather silly with the epaulets and all the official pins and insignias, but I was tired of walking around shirtless.

"I like it better with it off."

As she watched me button up, I said, "I don't like the hillbilly look."

She gave me an amused smile, undoing my buttoning. "There are worse things than hillbillies."

"Maybe so," I said with a blush. "But I like shirts."

She laughed. "Then I will let you enjoy it." She gestured to the end of the hall. "Shall we continue?"

I nodded.

"I had no idea you were a warrior," she said as we passed another set of lockers.

I shrugged. "I wouldn't call myself that. Snaker slammed my face into a car and cut my neck. I got beat up at school, too."

That comment only seemed to increase her apparent admiration. "A warrior who is aware of his shortcomings is often greater than one who thinks he is invincible."

"Thanks," I muttered, reddening some more.

She took my hand in one of hers, leading me down the darkened end of the corridor.

Beyond, illuminated only by a set of reinforced windows on the ceiling, I could see a massive garage, like an airplane hangar, with drab concrete walls painted with numbers and strange governmental emblems.

I walked in, staring at the huge empty sections of flooring where a whole squad of military transports had once stood. Only a scattering of vehicles still remained, a robot, a four wheeled personnel transport, a small helicopter, and a Jeep.

Ibira pointed to a corner where a tank sat parked in a strangely unprofessional angle.

"Cool," I muttered. "I wonder if anyone knows how to run that tank."

"I highly doubt its usefulness, or someone would have saved the base with it. Look at how it's parked."

With a shrug, I marched up to the behemoth, climbing up the treads and the cabin to the closed lid, staring at a dusty paper sign attached with old duct tape.

"Control systems damaged," I read. "Always veers to the left. Do not use."

"I told you."

"You'd think if they were really desperate, they'd have used it anyway."

"It is likely it would have driven over a landmine."

I frowned. "Couldn't someone, I don't know, keep turning the wheel to the far right or something?"

"If you want to drive it, no one's here to stop you."

"I don't get it," I said. "How did this tank and robots and stuff get here? Earth doesn't even have robots like that yet, and this tank looks funny. Unless this is some secret government installation like Area 51 that travels through space..."

"Other planets make tanks and military vehicles."

"They don't make Master Locks and Twinkies and Jeeps."

"Twinkies are actually an intergalactically traded commodity."

"What about Jeeps?"

"Your building travels both time and space. We're actually thousands of years in the future. Were you not paying attention in the meeting?"

"I guess not," I frowned. "I just thought this place could only travel space or something."

All of a sudden, we heard strains of Jackson Browne's _Next Voice You Hear._

I shook my head in disgust. I've hated that song ever since they played it thirty times in a row at the supermarket I used to work at.

"It sounds like they fixed the PA system," Ibira said.

I heard flapping sounds, then a clunk.

A beady beak squawked at me from the side of the cabin. With a laugh, I reached down and petted it.

For some reason, they creature had a key ring in its claws. I stroked the fin on the creature's head and took them. "Good boy."

"How did you know it was a male?"

It had no easily identifiable sex organs. "Lucky guess?"

"I've hard Na'vi hunters make them catch hoops with their genitalia."

I jerked my hand back.

The music system stopped in the middle of _Big Yellow Taxi_. "Hello? Is this thing on?" I heard Bryan's effeminite voice saying.

_A_fter three booming taps, the voice broke into song. "We built this city! We built this city on rock and roll!"

I smacked my face. "Great. We now have karaoke."

"We built this city..."

"Shut up!" I heard a gruff voice yelling in response. Lacking amplification, it sounded like the other guy was on the opposite side of the base.

"You hear it all around you...good loving gone bad..."

I heard gunshots, then the sound system went dead.

A loud disappointed moan could be heard from elsewhere in the building, then a bunch of unintelligible sounds that were most likely complaints and arguments.

"Professional," Ibira remarked.

With a little trial and error with various keys, I got the lid open, climbing into the tank's interior.

The place was dark, and a confusing myriad of buttons seemed to cover every surface. I couldn't even figure out the lights.

A soft thump behind me indicated that my companion had joined me.

"Any ideas on how to get this thing going?" I asked.

She took out a LED flashlight, examining a control panel as complicated as that of a commercial aircraft. "None."

We climbed back out and closed the lid.

I started climbing back down, but Ibira grabbed my arm, gesturing for me to sit.

She crossed her legs, resting all four hands in front of her. "I've been reading up on your religion, and it says your God created man for woman and vice versa. I didn't see space aliens or Qozisa mentioned in there at all, especially in regards to...romance. Doesn't this bother you at all?"

I found this an odd statement coming from someone who had just been trying to pull my shirt off. I stared at her for a moment, but decided not to mention it.

"I'm not Catholic," I said. "I understand that God cares more about creating spiritual children through conversions than He does about making babies." I swallowed. "Okay, so I'm not good at either one, but I also don't think the kingdom of God is going to come about through breeding."

"So you're okay for exchanging the natural for the unnatural?"

You seemed okay with it, I thought. But it wouldn't help my argument, so I didn't verbalize the comment. "Aliens aren't in the bible. I'm not sure that description applies to my situation. It's nice that you did the research, though. I'd do the same, but I don't know where to look."

She laughed. "It might be a challenge for you to do so. My people are like the American Indians of your world. It's mostly verbal. There are some written parchments, but they are too sacred to be carried around."

She leaned forward. "So it does not bother you that I worship a goddess and not your god? Your bible seems to frown upon such things."

"You're not human," I said. "God doesn't tell me what to do with space aliens."

"So you're going to base your decision solely on that?"

"Are you trying to break up with me?" I stammered.

"No, I'm just curious as to how you can be content with your beliefs. Don't you think it's wrong to date a goddess worshiping space alien?"

"I don't believe that my God would manifest Himself as a goddess anywhere, but you're not human, and I haven't been given an explanation about things like this, so I'm not going to try to convince you out of it. I'd try harder if you were human."

She folded her arms behind her back. "You think I'd be here if I were absolutely certain my religion was true?"

"I...don't know. Maybe?"

She sighed. "I am in a deep conflict about it. While I make certain to wewrer and do the rite of Zawkob daily, I have begun to feel something is lacking."

I frowned. "I'm not sure how I can help you, really. I only tend to make a mess of things."

"Try me."

I sighed. "Look. Every science fiction story I've ever seen involves an alien messiah of some sort. Even Narnia has an allegorical savior figure."

"This isn't a story. This is real life."

"I know." I shook my head. "Have you...tried discussing this with your goddess?"

She shrugged. "I prayed, I rolled the stones of Retlom, but I am unsatisfied with the results."

"Seeing stones?" I smirked. "Did you try rolling again?"

She frowned. "It is an oracle, not Yahtzee. You do not roll again once you've said the Faymir."

"What did it tell you?"

"A sign of despair combined with the sign of love and the foreigner, a sign of suffering combined with a sign of industry, and the death of nature. I also did a Kotdak from the Pergab, which indicated the Jamran chant. `The hands of the goddess reach out from the land, from the sky, from the Thusdid and the sea. Give bountifully and she will take bountifully, and she will reclaim your body, which she has birthed.'"

I stared at her in confusion. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Not much," she admitted. "I already knew about loving a foreigner and DOGOS destroying the environment. The associated chant is all purpose, and doesn't help me at all. It only means I should plant myself deep in the soil, bonding more with nature."

"Wait," I stammered. "Loving a foreigner?"

She nodded, blushing.

"I..." I couldn't get the words out. I thought I loved her, maybe, but I didn't know her well enough to say it with a hundred percent certainty yet. Lust wasn't the same as love, so the words stopped in my throat. "You...love _me_."

"Is that surprising?"

"No," I said. "It's just...we barely met."

Her whole body seemed to turn orange with embarrassment. "People in my tribe have achieved full and fulfilling marriages with much less. Besides, _we hunted together._"

She said that last part like she were carrying my baby and I was obligated to commit to her.

It was completely bizarre to me. I should have expected such coming from an alien, but it still took away my capacity for speech. "You...genuinely...love me," I reiterated.

She nodded. "Please do not misunderstand me. Qozisa do not take these things lightly. If a Qozisa is committed to someone, they are committed for life. We do not have a concept of puppy dog love."

I swallowed. Unfortunately, I did have that concept, but I didn't want to bring it up for fear of her rejection.

"Do you also love me?"

I stared at her, struggling with my emotions.

At last, I pieced together a reply. "I...yes. At least as a sister. And a friend. Maybe something more, but we'll have to see when we get to that point. We, uh, humans have..._gradients_ of love."

I thought she seemed a bit hurt or disappointed, so I added, "But you are on a pretty high gradient."

She laughed.

An awkward silence followed this.

She sighed, looking away. I guessed it had something to do with her religious crisis, since she hadn't moved away from me any.

"Okay," I nervously ventured. "So the dice and everything didn't work. What are you really looking for?"

She shrugged. "Purpose. Love. Acceptance. Guidance for my life. Peace. Kindness. The things I see in your faith."

This is the last thing I expected such an alien to be saying to me, especially with all those attempts to seduce me. "I could tell you something to make you feel good, but/I don't know if it's true./the fact is I don't have any good news for space aliens. or even bad news for that matter."

"What do you suggest I do?"

"I..don't know. You're welcome to study my religion and draw your own conclusions. You can pray to my god if you think it will help you. I mean, I'm sure He created lots of things that aren't in the book..."

She suddenly snapped to attention. "What's that?"

"The other things in the book?"

"No." She pointed to the end of the garage. "That. I see smoke."

She pulled her gun out of her harness, clicking off the safety.

I followed her through the garage to a hallway where a cloud of green smoke issued forth, turning the corner.

When I heard the wild snorting, I backed away, watching as my girlfriend marched boldly ahead down the corridor.

Halfway down, she pressed herself flat against a wall behind a locker, motioning for me to stay put.

After a moment of peering around the edge, she gave me the okay, but crept slowly ahead in slow cautious strides.

That was when I saw the crowd of blue bodies, all joined together by their dreadlocks.

I stared at them as they swayed back and forth, chuckling and snorting to each other as they passed around something resembling a giant beetle, inhaling green gas from tubes stuck in its smoking head socket.

"Disgusting," Ibira muttered. "It seems like every planet has its own drug problem."

A bundle of red and purple leaves lay in the center of this group, which they occasionally stuffed into the bottom of the beetle and lighted.

"What are they doing?" I said as she crept upon them.

"What does it look like?"

"Is it part of some religious ritual?"

"I...don't think so. This appears to be completely recreational."

One of the blue things raised a claw at me, then bellowed in laughter.

"My people have the rite of Dalsab," Ibira muttered. "In which a fungus and the vines of a Dalsab are inhaled for the purpose of a sacred oracle. What I'm seeing here is a waste of Ocrecro."

She pointed her gun at one of their heads, but they didn't care in the slightest.

"Are you going to kill them?"

She put her gun away. "There is no honor in that."

She unclipped a phone from her harness, making it chirp. "Victor, this is Ibira. Incapacitated Na'vi in Vehicle Bay 2. Weapons unnecessary. Request backup with rope. Repeat, incapacitated Na'vi, Vehicle Bay 2."

Static answered her for a moment. "English, please."

"She sighed. "It's hard to explain. Just come down here, okay?"

"Holy shit!" I heard Victor shout from the end of the hall. "This is like shooting fish in a barrel!"

The dwarf pulled out a gun.

"Hold your fire! There is no honor in killing them like this!"

Victor let out a frustrated growl, waving his hands around angrily like he'd marched into a swarm of bees. "Then you kill them! Just hurry it up before they get sober!"

Ibira holstered her weapon. "No. That would be genocide."

"Fine. I'll do it," said a voice behind Victor.

One of the Navi's heads exploded in a spray of pink blood.

The pigs linking their hair with it all screamed in agony.

I stared at the figure in the white shirt and tie as he chambered the gun again.

A second shot was fired, but the bullet ricocheted off a wall as a green body tackled him to the floor.

Afraid of getting shot myself, I could only watch with horror as Brian shoved a gun in my girlfriend's face, pulling back the hammer.

"You do not strike a commanding officer!" he growled. "I should kill you right now for insubordination!"


	18. Chapter 19: Insubordination

My ex boss was pointing a gun in my girlfriend's face.

I wanted to rush to her aid, but I was too scared and had no desire to kill or maim any of my coworkers. Not afraid of what I could do, but rather what the others would do to each other had I interfered. Plus there was the whole "getting fired" thing to worry about.

Also, I suddenly remembered that she had four arms, and Brian only had two.

"You're only out to defend those blue piccanninies because you're just like them!" he shouted at her. "A stupid primitive backwater loincloth wearing barbarian!"

"At least I will die with honor!" Ibira yelled, pushing her forehead against the end of the gun barrel. "These Na'vi do not pose a threat, and yet you will kill them all in cold blood! "

"It's an act of war."

"It's more like senseless slaughter."

As this exchange was taking place, I noticed the Na'vi unplugging their hair, bellowing and growling as they staggered to their feet.

"Guys?" Victor cried.

When my girlfriend turned her head, Brian tried to strike her with the gun, but it only resulted in him receiving a bloody nose and a missing tooth. In seconds, the gun was wrested from his grip.

A loud bang and a squeal told me it was all for nothing.

Victor had drawn his gun, emptying the chamber on the remaining doped up creatures, splattering their brains and guts all over the floor.

One of them died so close to me that I ended up with alien brains splattered across my face.

Ibira stood up, glaring at the dwarf.

"What! They were pulling knives!"

Ibira sighed.

Brian held out a hand, glaring at the Qozisa. "Gun."

She shook her head.

"Give me my gun back, bitch!"

"No!" she shouted, flushing orange in anger.

"There, there," Victor said, trying to smooth things out. "Chill, guys. We're a team, remember? We're trying to get this base back so we can get things back to normal. Right guys?"

Brian's hand was still extended.

With an icy glare, Ibira slammed the Colt into his palm.

Brian's fingers closed around the handle, and he raised the barrel until it was pointing at her rib cage. "I should kill you right now," he growled. "But you're a contracted worker. Don't pull this shit again, or I'll be forced to change my mind."

He holstered the gun.

"I'm not afraid of you," she said. "You should be grateful that I have something you lack. Honor. It is the only thing keeping you alive right now."

"Oooh," Brian mocked. "A green thing is threatening me. I'm shaking in my boots."

Ibira growled at him like a feral animal, then faked an attack.

The manager flinched.

I noticed Ibira staring at me. "What religion is he?"

I shrugged. "The church of drinking and playing golf?"

"Damn straight," Brian laughed. "Better than sitting with my ass in the dirt and offering bean curds to some nature goddess, don't you think, Mr. Finch?"

"Uh..."

"You don't have to answer that, Jason," Ibira said.

The young Republican frowned at me. "What, did she convert you?"

"No." I didn't say anything more, for want of avoiding the conflict. Instead I wiped bits of brain off my face, fixing my eyes on the gaudy necktie.

Victor cleared his throat. "Looks like the hallway's clear."

Giving me a fake smile, Brian said, "Find anything else back there, Finch?"

I shrugged. "We found a Jeep and a tank that veers to the left."

"A tank!" Brian shouted. "Holy shit, that's awesome! Where's the keys?"

Sighing, I pulled out the key ring. "It's got a veer to the left," I protested.

"So does my dick. Gimme!"

I held the keys away from him. "Say please?"

"Please!"

"Fine." I left the keys within reach this time.

Snatching them out of my hands, he skipped over the bodies like a little kid, dashing down the hallway.

"You shouldn't have done that," said Ibira.

"What's he going to do?" I said. "Run over the natives sideways?"

She didn't share my mirth.

I frowned. "Sorry. I only meant it's not a threat. He's more in danger of wrecking the building."

She relaxed somewhat. "I hope it falls on his head."

I didn't like her attitude, but I supposed a lesson on forgiveness would go on deaf ears at this point. Especially since she had no ears.

"Jason, do you think this act was right?" she said.

"No, not exactly..."

"Like I said before," Victor argued. "They were pulling out weapons. I only fired because I didn't want to get stabbed to death. Besides, I really don't think your plan of tying them up would have worked anyway. We might have gotten them tied up, but they never would have agreed to walk off the property."

Ibira sighed as Victor grabbed the ankles of one of the bodies.

I just stared at him.

"What are you looking at!" he grumbled. "C'mon! Help me clean this shit up! This isn't something you want to put off until tomorrow!"

I suddenly heard a loud rumbling sound.

"What's that?" Ibira said.

"Sounds like Brian's got the vehicle bay open."

I grabbed the shoulders at the opposite end of Victor's carcass, tugging it in the direction of the vehicle bay, but Victor pulled in the opposite direction.

"What?"

"Wait until he's out the dock. I don't want to get flattened by some shitty tank driver. C'mon. Up this way."

And so I helped him carry the body up the tunnel and out the door we came in through, then, Seeing ibira carrying another halfway up the hallway with all four hands, I grabbed the body's ankles and helped her along.

"Does your god forgive murderers?" Ibira said as we reached the fork in the tunnel.

"Yeah," I said. "Obviously they can't keep murdering people, but..."

I fell silent as we dumped the body on top of the other one, returning to the scene of the crime.

Crash! The entire building shook like an earthquake hit it.

"What's that!" Ibira cried in surprise.

"Oh I bet Brian just drove the tank into the wall or something."

The moment I said this, I saw Victor run past me, bolting down the tunnel in the direction of the vehicle bay. "Idiot!" he screamed. "What the fuck are you doing!"

With a shrug, I grabbed the ankles of another corpse, and Ibira helped me carry it up the tunnel.

"Does Jesus forgive people like Brian?" she asked.

"Yeah," I muttered. "But I admit his life does need to change."

When we returned to grab another body, I heard Victor yelling all clear and hurry, so Ibira and I dragged the next one down to the vehicle bay and out through an open garage door with a huge chunk of concrete missing from the left side.

The personnel carrier lay on its side, fluids pouring all over the concrete.

"What a jackass," Victor muttered as he inspected the damage.

At long last, the bodies were gone, and we set about scrubbing the walls with rags and crusty old cleaning solutions, supplementing them with materials from the hummer when things got empty.

Once finished with the task, Ibira marched up to Victor and said, "We're done here. Request permission to continue the sweep of the building."

Victor nodded. "The other end hasn't been completely checked out yet. Proceed with caution." He smirked. "You going to make him start wearing one of those harnesses pretty soon?"'

Ibira smiled, but didn't laugh. "I might."

"Well don't let me see it. I'll go blind."

She turned around, and I found myself being dragged down the hallway.

"You're very forceful," I remarked.

She batted her eyes at me. "Is this something that pleases you?"

I blushed. "I...guess yes."

She laughed. "I also find your submissiveness and timidity endearing. Perhaps we compliment each other."

My ears and cheeks felt warm from embarrassment.

A loud bellow interrupted our conversation.

All of a sudden I found myself being shoved against a wall.

My girlfriend drew her gun, aiming at a tall muscular blue shape stomping its way down the corridor ahead.

I grabbed the closest weapon I could find, a metal fire extinguisher.

The beast stomped ahead like a raging bull elephant, stampeding past metal racks full of equipment and supplies.

"Ibira?" I said.

"Wait!" she hissed.

The thing swung its fist, and a locker fell over.

"Ibira!" I whispered.

Ibira steadied her gun, but didn't fire. "Quiet! Just wait!"

I watched with breathless anxiousness as the creature stomped closer and closer, gaining greater velocity with each step.


	19. Chapter 20: Remote Guidance Lab 09

"What are you doing!" I nearly shouted as the beast loomed closer.

"You'll see!" she growled.

As it came within four or five feet of our position, the Na'vi's forehead made contact with an overhanging concrete ceiling divider, and it hit the floor with a tremendous crash, unconscious.

I leaned over the body. "Wow."

"See?" she smirked. "Didn't need to fire a shot."

"Great. Now what do we do?"

Ibira took some rope from her harness and tied its hands and ankles together. "There. Now we can leave it here until we figure out what to do with it."

"Wait," I said. "I just got an idea. Remember that freezer we passed?"

When we were carrying bodies around, I'd noticed the latch handles. Judging by the door, I figured the compound must have had a pretty impressive walk in freezer.

"I...admit...that's clever, but I think the cold would eventually kill it."

"We don't have electricity."

"Oh." The realization dawned on her features. "Oh! Right!"

She grabbed the pig's feet, and we dragged it down the white cinder block tunnel.

As we reached the giant metal door, the creature showed signs of stirring from its unconscious state.

Afraid of what it might do, we hurriedly threw the door open, dragging it inside as it stupidly stuck out its arms and tried to pull itself out.

The interior of the cooler had been warm for a long time. Alien insects swarmed around rotten meat, pools of curdled ice cream and dairy products, while mold took care of a large portion of the rest. The odor was indescribably foul.

"Wuf," Ibira coughed as she slowly shuffled in with the captive. "And I thought Raugol was disgusting."

I nearly gagged. "Let's just get out of here before someone locks us in."

We dashed out the door, slamming it shut behind us.

I drove down the pin, ensuring that the thing would have to go through a pencil sized piece of steel to get back out.

Ibira radioed in the situation, then I followed her up the tunnel.

"Ibira," I said. "Do your people have dress outfits, or do you just have that one outfit to wear?"

"We Qozisa are not a vain people. We wear apparel appropriate to the environment. We do not have formal and casual. Do you not like my tipoc?"

I swallowed. "No, I actually...like it a lot. It _looks good_ on you."

"Perhaps I should make you one," she smiled. "What are your measurements?"

I laughed nervously. "That's really okay. I think it looks better on you."

We passed by a gymnasium with exercise bikes and weights. I stopped and stared through the window for a moment before coming to the realization that maybe one gets more unstructured free time after basic training is completed.

"Planning to bulk up?" Ibira asked.

"Maybe?"

"How did you get into DOGOS, if you don't mind me asking?"

I stared at her. "I thought you already knew."

"Well tell me again."

And so I told her.

When I got to the part about the poisoning, we reached another vehicle bay, this one containing nothing but the cannibalized remains of trucks, robots and tanks.

"We've been over this area," I heard Sam calling from a computer desk in the corner.

When we came closer, I saw him turning a crank on a generator, which apparently kept a desktop with a swimsuit model background glowing and active as he opened up the vehicle maintenance database.

"Nice threads, _general!"_ he laughed.

"Shut up," I said.

Sam pointed at a door in the middle of the room. "Try checking that place. We haven't been there yet."

I nodded. "Did you happen to see the Na'vi stomping around in the back hallway?"

"What? No. I took a different route. I didn't even know someone was down there."

"We've got him locked up in a freezer."

"Alive or dead?"

"Alive, of course," Ibira said. "We had him unconscious."

"Had?"

"He's probably not now."

Sam chuckled. "Bet he's going to be _pissed!_"

"Especially with all that rotten food."

He burst out laughing. "I ain't going back there! No sir!"

I pointed to a dock. "You didn't try this one?"

"Nope. Have at it."

And so I turned the handle and held it open for Ibira.

"I do not understand the custom of door opening."

I shrugged. "It's a sign of respect to a female. Do your people have doors at all?"

She smiled. "Not really. Thank you." And she stepped on through.

Beyond, we found a barracks full of bunk beds, all organized and tidy as per military specifications. Well, except for the thick layer of dust that covered everything.

"So how did you end up in DOGOS?" I asked my companion as we walked in.

"I was on a Poryer hunting party in the Ifotza, the second moon of Hinnaz, when the hunt took us to a concrete one floor structure with glass windows. Being the leader of my party, I marched in to investigate.

"About thirty minutes later, I came out with a name badge and some news that I found exciting but horrified everyone else.

"For the next year, I did collections for IQOR, which I would have kept on doing had I not discovered that customers who went over three hundred days past due were put into slavery.

"When we landed on Spengo, I switched jobs, and I spent the next two years selling Calnux and Xeicods, tentacle accessories for Enxola, until the department closed up."

We reached the end of the barracks, crossing a short hallway to a white room filled with equipment.

"So then I was helping U.S. Bank until my call center got attacked," she shrugged. "You know the rest."

I furrowed my brow in puzzlement. "Why would you put the words United States on anything being traded intergalactically?"

She sighed. "It's just a name. Anyways, that's how I got here."

"Wow," I said. "That's a crazy story. My life isn't nearly that exciting."

"Count your blessings."

I stared at the equipment, the computers, the row of pod shaped machinery resembling tanning beds. "What's all this?"

"The so-called Avatar program," she groaned. "I read that they put soldiers in here, injecting them with all kinds of chemicals to bring them to the brink of death in hopes of transferring their spirits into minds of Razorback clones they had somewhere in the facility."

"Did it work?"

"If the objective was killing soldiers, then yes. The clones never accomplished their intended purpose. In the end, they just put probes in the Avatars' brains and drove them around with virtual reality equipment like they were steering around a robot. They went haywire during a mining operation and someone leaked the story."

"That's weird."

The radio chirped.

"Jason and Ibira," I heard Victor saying. "What's your 1020?"

"What's 1020?" Ibira whispered.

"He wants to know where we are."

Ibira read from a sign on the wall. "Remote Guidance Lab 09." She handed me the radio.

"Do you see any carts?" Victor asked.

I turned around and found a dolly and a heavy duty tool cart with shatterproof plastic bins. "Got at least a couple."

"Good. Load as much equipment onto those carts as you can and load it into the Hummer."

"Right. Will do. Ten four."

I handed the radio back.

"Wait," said ibira. "What are we supposed to grab?"

I shrugged. "Anything that looks important, I guess. I did the same exact thing for a temp agency once."

She eyed me skeptically. "You loaded Avatar control equipment."

"No, but the idea's the same."

I picked up a big white machine the size of a microwave, setting it on the cart.

With a shrug, Ibira set a computer tower down next to the device. "Do we need the monitors?"

"I somehow don't think so. The hard drives are probably more important."

We loaded some virtual reality peripherals into the cart along with some strange looking memory storage devices, a massive assortment of pills and serums and medical supplies, and a pile of small unidentifiable devices.

We filled the bottom of the cart with more towers and a handful of larger machines of unidentified purpose, then loaded some more on the six wheeler, until no room remained and things fell off when we pushed them to the door.

Seeing that we'd run out of space, we pushed the carts down to the garage and out through a hallway Sam indicated, since we didn't have the key to the garage.

It was slow going, and we kept having to pick up pieces of equipment, but we eventually reached the Hummer, and Steve met us at the trunk, examining our catch.

To my surprise, the next thing he did was start throwing things out. A lot of strange little devices ended up on the dirt. Then, when he read the serial numbers on the computers, half of those went, too.

Pulling back a sheet of chain mail, he tossed handfuls of medical bottles into the trunk, then dropped the prized serial number machines in the back with them.

"Let's get a little more in there."

I frowned and shook my head. "What in particular are you looking for? What serial numbers do you want?"

Looking bored, he said, "Don't worry about it. Just grab more stuff."

"Okay," I sighed. "Whatever."

"I just tried it out," I heard Brian saying to Sam a few yards away. "The thing can go a hundred and fifty miles per hour! Sweet!"

"Cool," Sam muttered, sounding indifferent.

I and Ibira spent the next half hour shuttling various things up to the Hummer, leaving quite a lot in the dirt, until the trunk and seats were mostly full, the lab was pretty much empty (except for the giant tanning beds), and we had difficulty closing the doors.

By this time, Sam had finished whatever he had been doing, and he was standing out in the field with Brian, arguing arguing about whether using gasoline to cremate the carcasses was a waste of fuel. It didn't seem to be going anywhere, so I climbed into the trunk of the Hummer.

"Is that it?" I called to the overweight Grail Knight.

"We've got to dump this stuff into the other building," he mumbled.

The ride back turned out to be a quiet one, with me in the back sharing seat space with a row of computers, and Ibira in the front passenger seat, separated from me by a wall, the loud rumbling of the vehicle and its noisily jangling chain mail.

Twice I saw her turn her head to face me with her mouth moving, but I couldn't tell what she was saying, so she eventually stopped trying, preferring to occupy her time with the driver, who I could understand even less, and Victor, who seemed to be hidden somewhere beneath all the equipment.

I thought I heard a thump on the roof, but the communication problem discouraged me from asking about it. I didn't think anyone was in danger anyway.

The sky darkened outside the chain mail as we continued our long ride back to the office.

By the time we had reached the entrance, it was completely dark, and we were loading carts and dollies under the light of the strange glowing foliage of the forest and the building's security flood lamps.

I suddenly noticed a odd bat-like shape perched on top of the Hummer.

I tapped Steve on the shoulder, pointing to it. "What am I going to do with that thing? It likes me and doesn't want to go away."

"Just leave it outside," he gruffed. "We can't have pets in the building. "If your friend wants you, he can meet you outside. He seems just fine fending for himself."

"But you had a big huge Ikran in there earlier!"

His chin shifted sideways in a smirk. "That was a special circumstance. We needed its pheromones."

And so I didn't give it another thought.

As I filled up carts and moved them around, Dino would watch me with interest, flying from perch to perch to watch me, but then he eventually got bored and fell asleep. I kept going about my business, assuming that would be the end of it.

After several minutes of running carts around, we had our payload unloaded, and everyone was marching to the building for some needed R&R.

Unfortunately, that's when Dino chose to wake up and follow me to the door.

I frowned at Sam. "What are we going to do with Dino?"

"Dino didn't have wings," he said.

"I don't care. He reminds me of Dino. Anyways, he obviously needs attention, but I'm assuming I have other duties to attend to, so I can't always come visit it."

"We should kill it and serve it at meal time," said Victor.

I looked at him like he were the kind that would torture a puppy. "That's mean!"

"We've eaten Ikran before. Of all ages. This wouldn't be any different."

I winced. "I... I don't know." I petted the creature's head.

"Can we at least I don't know, let it grow a little bigger so it has more meat?" said Sam.

Victor rolled his eyes. "Fine. Do what you want. But if this gets in the way of productivity, we're all going to get Dino steak for dinner." He opened the door. "Oh, and you should probably leave the guy outside for the time being. There's no cyanide for him to breathe in here."

I gawked at him. "Then how did you get that other one in the building last time?"

He frowned. "That was different."

"It didn't live very long in there," Sam explained. "We fitted it with a Bazrok, but it didn't take. We don't have one ready for this one yet. Not even sure if it would survive the operation."

I tried to get Dino to sit and stay, but it kept following me around.

Soon everyone was in the building, and I was stuck outside with the Ikran.

"Shoo," I cried in desperation. "Go home."

I waved my hands in a shooing motion in hopes that it would leave. It did not.

"You'll die if you follow me! Go!"

Eventually the door popped open again, and I saw Victor aiming a gun at the creature.

"No! Don't kill it!" I shouted, stepping in front of it.

"It's a tranq gun, kid! Step back!"

And so I did.

A few seconds later, Dino was snoring in the dirt.

"I thought you didn't have any more of those."

He shrugged. "We were out of the giant ones, but we got plenty of the other kinds of tranqs. That one's meant for big dogs and small animals." Sighing, he said, "Better get cleaned up and ready for bed, kid. You've got a busy day tomorrow."

I groaned. I didn't like the sound of that. Not at all.

Quickly, I hurried inside, took a shower, and changed clothes. I considered trying to use the laundry facilities I had just discovered, but I decided I was much too tired to mess with it at the moment. Instead, I shuffled off to the cafeteria in hopes that they'd still be serving at that hour.

It turned out I was too late. The food had been put away, and my coworkers were either finishing up, chatting, reading or playing with their phones.

The bald cafeteria girl was sitting by herself, playing digital solitaire.

"Apps," I absently muttered as I approached her.

"What?"

"Nothing. where's the food?"

"You can go in the kitchen," I heard a voice say behind me.

A figure in chain mail pushed past, stomping through a door behind the closed buffet.

I followed him in to an industrial kitchen containing a huge gas range, giant sized microwaves, mixers that could dish out enough cake and pudding for a small army, and one of those high pressure dish washers they used in restaurants.

A long slab of some neon yellow and pink meat lay unrefrigerated on the stainless steel counter in the center of the room. I don't know how long alien meat keeps, but I didn't think it was such a good idea to just leave out there like that.

I thought about putting it back in the fridge, but I worried that it would end up on my dinner plate, rotten. Of course, it could still have ended up on my dinner plate if I did nothing, but I decided to leave it alone, regardless.

Steve showed me where the food was, and then filled up a stainless steel bottle at a nearby soda fountain.

I filled up a plate with cold alien meat, cornbread, and coleslaw. They had macaroni, but I hate how buffets always sit that stuff out under the heat until it congeals into a disgusting flavorless blob, so I skipped over it.

After being assured that it didn't have the bladder release chemicals in it, I filled mine with orange soda and returned to the cafeteria, seating myself at a table occupied by my girlfriend.

After I'd gotten enough to eat, I picked up a discarded employee handout and a pen I'd found lying on the edge of the table, sketching Ibira's picture.

"What's that?"

"Um, nothing. I'm just drawing a picture of you."

She giggled and sat still. "I don't often have my portrait drawn. Representational art is actually against the tenets of my religion. Would you like me to do a pose?"

I chuckled at her flippant tone. "That's okay."

I frowned at a mistake I'd made while drawing her face. Ball point is not a very forgiving medium. "You're very nice," I said. Noting how lame that sounded, I said, "Pretty. Very pretty. I like how you look."

"Thanks, I guess," she laughed.

After a few minutes of sketching, she said, "I can I see it?"

I shrugged. "It's not that great. I'm using a pen, and I was worried about time..."

She picked it up, stared at it a minute, then giggled. "This is really good! Where did you learn to draw like this?"

"I've been drawing awhile," I said. "I actually have an art degree."

"Then why are you working here?"

"Art isn't the kind of profession where you can just fill out an application and get a job. It's really difificult."

"Oh," she sighed.

"Of course," I grinned. "If I had, I never would have met you."

Ibira smiled. "And that would be a bad thing?"

I nodded. "It would be terrible."

She looked pleased.

I finished the drawing and handed it to her. "Here."

With a smile, she admired it for a few minutes,, then folded it up. "Thank you. It's beautiful." And she stuck it in a pouch on her harness.

"No _you're_ beautiful."

I really hadn't meant to verbalize the thought, but I found myself saying it in a low whisper. Well, actually somewhat louder than a low whisper.

She stared at me in shock, changing a completely different color as the words sank in.

"You're beautiful too," she said in the hurried tone of one who is flustered and embarrassed.

Looking quite orange, she cleared the table, politely taking my things and hers back to the kitchen.

When she returned, I saw her plunk a soda can in the center of the table with a mischievous grin. "How do you play spin the bottle?"

"Uh..." I stammered. "It's awkward."

She laughed. "I know that part. How do you play?"

"Uh," stumbling over my words, I said, "I think it's, uh, done in a group. You spin the bottle around, and the person at the bottom of the bottle has to kiss the person in the mouth."

"What if they're the same sex?"

I shook my head violently. "That shouldn't happen. You got to be careful how to seat everyone. That's why the boy and a girl sit across from each other, and..I guess nobody sits across from each other in the middle."

"So if it's in the middle, no one gets kissed?"

I shrugged. "Tables or booths aren't designed that way in restaurants. And if you add two people there, you'd either have the same couple kissing every time or something homosexual."

"I see."

She stood up.

I blushed. "You're seriously not going to hunt down recruits, are you?"

She shrugged both shoulders. "Maybe?"


	20. Chapter 21: Kiss and Tell

I really didn't want to play such an intensely personal game with a bunch of weirdos from work, but I wanted to make a good impression, so I didn't try to stop her.

I cringed as I watched her wink at me and walk away from my table, muttering something to people she came across at the other tables. Most of them stared back at me for a moment, then shook their head and muttered something that was probably a no.

One of them was Zia. I was relieved to see her shaking her head in disgust.

To my chagrin and absolute horror, she returned a few minutes later with Snaker, the bald cafeteria girl, that hairy chick that had seen me in my underwear, and some rough looking guy with tattooed arms and stitches across his forehead.

I stared at the designs on the stranger's muscular arms. Strange Japanese symbols I couldn't read, dragons, and a retro 1940's style bombshell girl.

"Spin the bottle!" he laughed. "Been years since I've played that!"

Although the guy had a goatee and multiple piercings, his hair was white and his skin had the texture of cowhide. I guessed it had more to do with too much time in the sun.

"Jason," said Ibira. "This is Rick."

I shuddered as I shook his sweaty calloused hand.

As the girl with the hairy neck seated herself, Ibira nodded to her. "This is Sigma..."

The girl winked at me. "We've met."

I swallowed, not replying. I just stared at her fuzzy ears, then glanced down once to confirm that she indeed was wearing a black ruffled blouse with a rather low cut neck, and fur did apparently cover her all the way down.

She giggled, curling her feathery tail around her neck.

The bald cafeteria help sat down next to her, giving me a placid smile and a wave.

"And you know Osmifa."

I nodded, staring at the oddly patterned series of birthmarks running down her scalp.

I cringed as Snaker seated himself next to me.

"Hey! Kung Fu kid!" he said, offering his fist for the customary greeting. "Dap," in other words.

Not wanting to get on his bad side again, I bopped knuckles as a courtesy. "Uh...what are you doing here?"

"I overheard. Spin the bottle, right?"

I reddened. "Uh...I guess."

"I guess!" he mocked. "You seriously mean to tell me that you don't know?"

I got even redder. Let's just say that all my preconceived notions of intimacy never included his presence in any way shape or form.

Rick cleared his throat. "Ibira, you seemed a little bit confused about the rules of the game. Did my explanation help any?"

She shrugged.

"No? Well, this is basically it..."

He sat down next to me, whirling the steel bottle around really fast.

"Whoever it points to, those two people kiss."

The end of the bottle pointed to Sigma.

He leaned over the table, and they kissed. A long, sloppy kiss where the girl looked like she were vomiting into his mouth while he flailed his arms around wide eyed until they at last broke apart.

I thought I saw worms wiggling out between her lips, but the girl sucked whatever it was back in the moment they separated.

Rick just laughed and wiped his mouth. "Yeah," he gasped, giving Sigma a knowing chuckle. "That's all there is to it. By the end of the game, you've probably kissed just about everyone else."

He pushed the bottle in front of Ibira.

"This sounds unsanitary."

He shrugged. "You asked me over here."

Twisting her lip, Ibira picked up the bottle and gave it a few fast spins.

I nervously watched as the bottle spun, my pulse growing faster as it slowed to a stop.

It pointed nowhere, on a straight line where nobody was sitting.

"Try it again," Rick suggested.

She spun again.

After it finished spinning, I found the mouth of the bottle pointing at me, the opposite end pointing straight at Ibira.

Well that was awfully lucky, I thought. But I figured in between the way she spun the bottle, and the way it was weighted, the outcome could have been influenced.

At any rate, there we were.

With my heart thundering in my chest, I leaned across the table just as she did, and I found a pair of tusks jabbing at my face.

"Whoa!" I stammered. "Careful with those things!"

She giggled. "Do you want to kiss me or not?"

I swallowed. "All right. Just be gentle with them."

And then I was wiggling my face between her tusks, pressing his nose against the short bump that served as hers.

I should have been repulsed by the wide, off center eyes, the lack of a nose, and the flat lips, but for some reason, I wasn't, and I found myself puckering up.

Our lips met, and I found a moist thing with four fin-like ridges entering my mouth. It reminded me of a Philips head screwdriver, but the ridges extended all the way back, and they stuck out a lot more.

Deciding I didn't mind the experience very much, I attempted to return the gesture by following the ridges with my tongue as far as I could go.

I almost gagged when her tongue slid up against my uvula, a feeling that got worse by her further exploration of the back of my throat.

After making gagging sounds and pushing back a few times, she got the idea and pulled away.

She wiped her mouth. "Was it that bad?"

"No," I stammered. "It was great. But stay away from my tonsil area, unless you like the taste of barf."

"That...dangly thing on the top you mean?"

"Yes!"

Rick laughed. "Safety tip, everyone. Humans throw up when you play with their uvula."

The others chuckled.

"But hey, if you want your system cleansed..."

"Who spins now?" I said with nervous giddy feelings in my stomach.

"You do, big boy," Rick said.

Unsure if I wanted to try again, I gave the bottle a halfhearted spin, my pulse pounding with anxiety and the thrill of excitement.

For a few breathless moments, the end whirled around a few times, wavering between the cafeteria girl and Ibira, but then it stopped in front of Sigma.

Trembling, I leaned across the table, pressing my lips to hers, and I found a pointy muscle entering my mouth.

To my shock and horror, the muscle somehow split apart, and six pieces of it were poking around inside my cheeks.

Then they closed around my tongue, enveloping it as it pulled back into her mouth.

I found the experience pleasant, perhaps a little too pleasant.

Not wanting to get Ibira upset, I pulled away, blushing as he stared at her.

"See? No tonsil!" she giggled.

I watched as the girl I just kissed gave the bottle a careless turn, which resulted in her pairing with Snaker.

I felt a twinge of jealousy at their overlong kiss, but realized it was for the best. She wasn't my girl anyway.

"Okay, you two," said Rick. "Let someone else have a turn."

Snaker spun the bottle, and it pointed right at Ibira.

For the next moment, I watched with jealous dread as the two explored each other's mouths, but then the green one pushed him away suddenly. "You smoke! That's disgusting!"

"You didn't flick my uvula!" he joked. "It might have helped!"

"I doubt it," Ibira groaned.

Spitting the taste out of her mouth, she spun the bottle.

The top end of the bottle stopped at Snaker. The bottom pointed to the cafeteria girl.

He leaned over the table and kissed her.

His eyes suddenly got big, and as he pulled back, I could see something like a slimy white squid with eyes poking out of his mouth.

Snaker spat it out and fell out of his chair. "That's it! I'm out!"

She sucked the squid back in with a smile.

"I didn't know you were a Zisrel!" he gasped.

She smiled. "There's a lot you don't know about me."

Rick laughed, giving me an elbow. "Your turn."

The bottle spun again, and I found the bald girl smiling at me.

My stomach did a flip-flop as our eyes met. I stayed in my seat.

"I'll be careful," she said. "I promise."

I knew she had something disgusting in her mouth, but out of politeness, and curiosity, possibly something more, I leaned over the table and gave her a kiss.

When our lips parted, I felt something like a slug crawling into my mouth, coated in a thick ooze that settled around my tongue like molasses. It tingled like a shot of Novocaine, numbing my mouth, but at the same time it stimulated the nerves in ways I could scarcely comprehend.

When part of the slug touched my tongue, it would taste like rotten green beans, but then something would change in my taste buds, making it seem like the most delicious fruit in the world, to the point where I had to stop myself from swallowing it.

Then it got weirder.

I suddenly got the sensation like I had the breasts of a woman, and someone was playing with them.

And then I got the feeling like someone was in my mind, rummaging through a box containing the memories of all the times I'd masturbated.

I quickly pushed her away, disengaging myself.

"You like to violate stuffed animals," she grinned.

Rick and the others laughed.

I sunk down in my chair, turning bright red.

I half spat, half swallowed the ooze left in my mouth, shuddering at the thought of what would happen next.

Luckily, the next couple spins missed me., and sensation returned to my mouth.

Osmifa humiliated Rick by telling everyone at the table that he wore his girlfriend's clothes, but it didn't make me feel any better about myself. It just made me nauseated.

"How are you doing that!" Rick blurted.

She smiled. "Magic."

He crossed his arms and frowned. "Honey, we both know that wasn't magic. Tell me again, how the hell did you get into my brain?"

"Your tongue has nerves in it."

"Yes, yes. I learned that in grade school. Where does the mind fucking come in?"

"The nerves in your tongue are connected to the central nervous system like internet cables connect to a router."

"So you set up a laptop in my mouth and hacked my brain."

She nodded vigorously.

Rick fanned his face, looking quite red. "Damn, girl. I don't know whether to be turned on, or crawl into a corner and cry like a bitch."

"Do both," she suggested.

He laughed. "Whatever you say."

He waved his face some more, then glanced at his watch. "We should really return to quarters. Shift starts at 6 A.M. Unless..."

Shuddering, I quickly vacated my chair.

Everyone else followed my lead, except for Osmifa, who preferred to stay and chat with Rick.

As I walked toward the exit, I felt a hand on my shoulder.

"So," Ibira said. "Which one of us would you say kissed the best?"

"Honestly?"

She nodded.

I blushed. To be brutally honest, I didn't entirely appreciate my gag reflex being stimulated, and, well, Sigma kissed better. But I wasn't going to tell her that. "I...I think yours are great as long as you go easy on my throat."

"You liked hers better..."

I shook my head and sighed. "I don't even know her. There's a lot more to a relationship than just kissing...or sex, for that matter."

I practically muttered that last part.

"What?"

I repeated myself.

"You're surprisingly wise for someone who just volunteered for a childish kissing game."

I shrugged. "Appearances can be deceiving."

She smirked. "Perhaps. Would you like another before bed? I promise not to touch your ewe vulva."

"It's uvula," I stammered. "But okay."

"Whatever."

The next moment I had a pair of tusks sliding up around my cheeks, and the point of the Philips was sliding around in my mouth.

We kissed for much longer this time, making our tongues thoroughly acquainted with the insides of each other's mouths, well, in Ibira's case, the inside of my throat. When I imagined myself attempting to swallow a difficult piece of beef jerky, it wasn't so bad.

There wasn't as much gagging, so I got used to the strange sensation, and even enjoyed it, wrapping her in my arms as I got carried away in the moment.

I would have kept on kissing, but then she suddenly squeezed my butt with two hands and slid a third hand up inside my shirt. I even felt a hand toying with my belt buckle.

I pushed her away, breaking the kiss. "Stop."

She looked at me like nothing was wrong. "What."

My face felt like it were burning. "I...uh, as much as I like what we're doing, I think we need to slow down."

She rolled her eyes. "You were kissing just as fast as I was. But if you want slow..."

She raised her tusks to my face, speaking in a low, husky voice. "I can give you slow."

I stepped back. "No, no. I mean, listen. I need to tell you something about my moral beliefs. Particularly about sex."

Ibira burst out laughing. "I wasn't going to do that here! We were just...making out!"

"Oh," I stammered. "Never mind then."

"No, wait," she grinned. "I want to hear this."

"Do you know anything about Christian morality?"

"Uh...some?"

"Okay, then. By that morality, I...I'm not sure I'm completely comfortable with what we're doing."

She frowned at me. "I thought you said you didn't like humans because you..."

"Well, yeah. I'm not saying go away, but I tend to be more serious about commitment than other people."

"Then I have chosen a good man," she said with a grin.

She tenderly brushed my cheek with a tusk. "Good night."

But as I was leaving, I felt a slap on my right buttock.

Not entirely displeased, I returned to my room and went to bed.

Dressed in a t-shirt and jeans, I pulled up a blanket and closed my eyes for what seemed like only a moment.

I dreamed I was lying in a tipi of some sort, and it was dark.

Before the dream could get anywhere, I heard a voice saying, "What are you doing?"

I blinked and saw I was kneeling naked on the floor, carving an ornate design into the concrete with a pair of scissors.

Gary was standing over it, hands on his hips. He didn't look thrilled.

I dropped the scissors.

A woman's hand settled on my shoulder.

Caucasian looking. Time worn.

"Come with me," I heard the woman saying.

Only a second later did my brain register the fact she wasn't speaking English.


	21. Chapter 22: The Ballad of Brian Ross

The story of what happened to Brian Ross has been pieced together from numerous sources of varying degrees of reliability. No one knows completely what happened to him, or how he ended up where he did, but we do have eyewitnesses, his personal testimony, as jumbled and confused as it may be, considering the circumstances, and some incomplete data extracted from memory extraction sessions.

The narrative which follows is an attempt to convey a sense of what was really going on in his life during those fateful days, how he changed, inside and out, to become the legend we know today.

The story begins immediately after the securing of Hell's Gate.

Now that the compound had been officially cleared of Na'vi, it was Miller time.

The site stood very close to their destination, so it was only a matter of time before they would get the U.S. Bank office back.

Secure in these thoughts, the mug thirty year old department manager played a game of twelve holes around the base.

He had bribed a few employees to dig the holes around the facility, marking them with broken pieces of equipment, useless robot parts, and bits of flags found inside the base.

During their last expedition there a few months ago, Victor had helped him repair a landscaping buggy, so he was in business. Free to drink and golf to his heart's content.

Well, provided he scan for landmines occasionally.

No biggie.

Eighth hole. Sand trap off to one side, flagged landmine on the other.

He loved to see a mine obliterate a ball.

Well, as long as it's not next to him when it obliterates.

Make it to hole eight, and move to the basketball court/obstacle course for the next shot.

He set the golf ball on the tee, sizing up the metal fist clutching the flag for hole eight.

He swung.

The ball landed next to a plant. An alien plant.

Pale white, covered in large slimy yellow-orange spheroids. Its almond shape and pair of massive lip-like growths at the tip reminded him of Audrey 2 from _Little Shop_.

It looked harmless enough, a closed pod with no moving parts.

He leaned over the mouth, doing his best Audrey impersonation. "Feed me, Seymour!"

The pod suddenly popped open, and a cloud of white dust blasted him in the face.

The stuff felt like talcum powder, and it got all over him, making him look like a clown or a ghost.

Although he dusted himself off the best he could, he could feel it burning in the corners of his eyes, in his nostrils.

He had even inhaled it. Already he could feel a burning tickle in the back of his throat.

Whatever this junk was, he was damned sure he didn't want it in his body.

It had to go, and fast.

And there he was. All alone at the base, eyes blearing as the toxin ate into his cornea, with no doctors or medical personnel for miles in any direction.

"Shit," he gasped. "I am so fucked."

Even when faced with possible death, the brain is not devoid of a sense of humor.

At this very moment, someone in his noggin had dropped a quarter in the Old Mental Jukebox and pushed the Ballad of Señor Don Gato.

The stupid song he learned in grade school about the cat who falls off a roof and dies after reading a love letter.

Aye carrumba cried Don Gato.

Señor Don Gato was fucked, too. He broke his tail and all his whiskers, and his little solar plexus.

But unlike Mr. Gato, Brian had no doctors coming "on the run." He could radio the base, but that could take hours.

"Aye carrumba," Brian moaned as he staggered off in search of first aid.


	22. Chapter 23: Wayfarer

The night's events had become a confusing blur.

After the powder blasted him, Brian wandered around the base in a panic, desperately searching for something to wash the powder off.

About ten minutes later, he got a water pump to work, but by then he had inhaled a fair quantity, and he could still taste it in his mouth, a foul flavor like spoiled bread mold, something he had difficulty washing out even with several cups of water and beer.

Victor had taken the truck back to the call center, so there was no real way to get help.

None of the vehicles on the base had fuel except for the Hummer, and they were planning to sue that to reclaim the bank building.

The landscaping cart was too slow. The tank, while enticing, was too hard to control, especially with his eyes burning like they were.

And so he grabbed another canteen full of water and a beer, staggering for miles on foot.

From time to time, he thought about radioing Victor to pick him up, but he didn't consider his situation enough of an emergency to justify the use of fuel, so he walked.

He had a blackout about halfway between Hell's Gate and the DOGOS building, leaving him to wonder how exactly he'd gotten to the building and through the security gate to stagger about in the cafeteria, but he figured it was just the booze.

From Hell's gate to there, he had occupied himself by half singing, half humming the Don Gato song over and over again, like it were some kind of prayer. In his parched state, it came out garbled, and people thought he was either talking to himself or singing the Gna Gna song from the Bugaloos. Or the theme to Gilligan's Island.

The next thing he knew, he was being carried down to the medical lab.

At that point, he blacked out again, barely registering the three fingered hands prying his eyelids open as they shined a flashlight into his pupils.

"Water," he moaned. "Water!"

He thought the hard part was over. He thought that Sal and the other medics on duty would be able to cure...whatever it was right away.

Little did he know that the roller coaster ride was just beginning.


	23. Chapter 24: Dollhouse

I wasn't feeling the most dignified when the woman led me back to her office without a stitch of clothing on. I guess everyone expected me to throw my clothes back off, so nobody handed me anything to wear.

I was ushered into that little office we'd had our initial interview in, then directed to sit in a swivel chair in front of her desk.

There was nothing sexy about it. The texture of the chair felt like sandpaper against my exposed genitals. I was glad when she eventually threw me a towel from one of the cabinets to cover myself and add some cushion.

My whole body felt clammy from fear and shame. Cold and pale. Had I not cared about being fired, or ejected into space, or whatever they did at DOGOS, I would have reacted the other way, and turned so red and hot that I blew up.

The woman set a tree shaped plastic dollhouse on the desk. The general design was reminiscent of the owl's home in _Winnie the Pooh_, with a little wooden rocking chair on the front porch.

"Look familiar?"

I stared at it in utter disbelief. It wasn't a toy you could just walk into a toy store and buy. The thing had been made in the early seventies, possibly long before Disney got its claws on the franchise, or at least thought about franchising it. You'd be lucky to come across one on Ebay.

The only place I'd ever seen it was inside a mental institution examination room.

I was ten at the time.

My folks had taken me there because of my "temper tantrums." They tell me I chased the kindergarten teacher around with a pair of scissors, trying to attack her. I have no recollection of doing this, but I remember being in a little room full of toys, playing with that same exact dollhouse, as the psychologist asked me questions.

"Where did you get this?" I said.

"Western Mental. You've had an interesting childhood, Mr. Finch."

I swallowed. "What are you doing? Is this legal? Because it doesn't sound like it."

She slapped a glossy black and white photograph on the table. I stared at it.

It was a picture of the floor of my kindergarten classroom. In the photograph, those old familiar tiles were marred with a large intricate pattern, presumably out of acrylic paint.

"Do you remember doing this?"

I frowned. "No?"

"It's a Na'vi Spirit Wheel."

"I don't believe in circles of life. I have no reason to paint that."

"You were eleven."

"So? The Lion King came out when I was in high school. And I was too scared of demons to read my dad's occult books."

The woman crossed her arms, staring down at me. "We've been watching you for quite some time, Mr. Finch. Your presence on this assignment, as unwanted as it may be, was no accident. You have a special connection with the natives of this planet. Your brain holds the key to understanding the enemy. It is crucial that we make use of all the tools within our disposal to unlock that secret, for the continued survival of the company."

She handed me a clipboard holding a stack of paper.

"I need you to sign this."

As I frowned at the top sheet, she said, "It's a consent form giving us permission to surgically insert a small monitoring device into the center of your brain."

"What!" I cried in disbelief.

Seeming to take that as a question, she said, "The device will monitor your EEG, give minute to minute MRI readings and CAT scans, monitor all neuron firing and misfiring, and release a dose of tranquilizer whenever your sleepwalking behavior gets out of control."

"What!" I shouted. "No!"

"I wasn't asking," she said. "If you value your job, you'll sign these papers and let us put the implant in."

I glared at her. "Not just no, but hell no."

She looked like she'd just been slapped.

"Don't get me wrong," I blurted. "I'll bend over backwards to keep this job. I'll do whatever you ask, but I draw the line at brain surgery. I don't care what you do to me. Fire me. Blackball me. Jettison me into space. Whatever. I'm not doing it. I'd rather die than have someone cutting my skull open and fucking with my brain."

With a sigh and a roll of the eyes, Grace leaned on the edge of her desk, giving me a skeptical look. "Jason, don't you want to be a normal boy? Don't you want these sleepwalking episodes to stop? Or do you actually like blacking out and and waking up not knowing where you are, or why you're holding a bloody butcher knife, or worse?"

I swallowed. While that sounded desirable, I just couldn't allow them to cut open my skull. The whole idea made me break out in cold sweats. "I've lived with it this far," I said. "Sorry, but my answer is still no."

"Then you leave me no choice."

She pulled a small silver gun out of her pocket, pointing it at my chest.

I flinched, attempting to dodge the bullet as she pulled the trigger, but her finger was faster.

I heard a quiet pop, then it felt like someone had kicked me in the chest.

I looked down, expecting blood, but all I saw was a needle sized hole.

"What the hell!" I shouted. "What did you do!"

"I just implanted a tracking device. In addition to tracking your location via GPS, it also relays minute by minute recordings of blood pressure readings, pulse, oxygen, cyanide and CO2 levels, general nervous system activity, among other things."

"The fuck?" I said. "And you don't need a consent form for that?"

She shrugged. "We didn't need to operate, did we?"

I swallowed. If she were telling the truth, that kind of device would be just as much an invasion into my privacy as a brain scanner. With a little monitoring, she'd know exactly when and where my pulse and blood pressure spiked, and therefore guess what caused it. The thought made me shudder.

I shook my head in frustration. "If you wanted to get into my brain, why don't you just let that cafeteria girl do it? She seems to be able to reach into other people's brains and take whatever she wants."

"Osmifa?" she said with a look of disdain. "We're trying to locate the source of communication, not drive it away."

"What's where you and I differ," I said.

She frowned. "You're not the only one to whom this kind of thing has happened, Jason. You're not the first, and you certainly won't be the last until we do something about the problem. We want to track down the source so it doesn't happen to other people."

"Yeah," I smirked. "All that blackmailing and training starts to get expensive."

She did not share my mirth. "There's more to this situation than your own personal discomfort," she said quietly. "You are dismissed."


	24. Chapter 25: Embers

The pointy eared medic stared at a computer readout above her patient's bed with worriment.

The well dressed manager had been carried in my his friends, and he did nothing but moan and cry out for water.

He was usually a flirt. When he came to visit her, he often smelled of alcohol, but he seemed sweet and polite, always ready with a joke.

The man she saw on the bed was pale, clammy, afraid.

She didn't want to admit it, but she still loved him.

After all these years, that night they spent on planet Gallifrey was never far from her thoughts. They'd been staying in Meutra, a city as renowned as Paris for its beauty and romance.

They'd toured Yaztot, the famous shopping district. They visited the museums, holding hands.

Night fell, and they dined at a fine restaurant. What was it called? Etduwu? Volbun? It didn't matter. He was a perfect gentleman the whole time. They ate fine food, drank...whatever it was they had instead of wine on that planet.

Afterwards, they stood on a balcony overlooking the Kakbod river, taking in the sights, observing the night sky with a highly sophisticated telescope.

And then they kissed.

It was a slow, unhurried thing. It began with her expressing doubts that a man could love a woman who only has three fingers and a thumb on each hand, and that she would never find love until she goes back to her home planet.

Without a word, he just kissed each digit, progressing upwards.

The events that followed were a mistake. But she couldn't stop thinking about them, even after all this time had passed.

Was it really that much of a mistake?

The man on the bed had closed his eyes. For the moment, he seemed to be at peace. She could see no outward signs of distress, so she momentarily believed that he had recovered from...whatever it was.

But this insatiable appetite for fluid still didn't make sense.

The canteen he'd brought with him had presumably been full, according to the story he'd mumbled out to Victor, plus he'd had alcohol.

Since he'd been there, he'd guzzled an additional four liters of water, which made his fluid intake something over a gallon, with no elimination other than cold sweat.

She'd scanned and double scanned his bladder and liver for cysts, blockages and tumors, but she found nothing. His plumbing appeared to be perfectly functional, healthier than many others his age, and nothing else in his body seemed to account for the rapid absorption, or loss of fluid.

She stayed up all night puzzling over it, studying articles in the medical database, consulting with other medics both on the base and off planet, and praying, though she felt like a hypocrite doing so. She hadn't prayed since the slave ship took her parents, back when she was a child.

Her eyes closed. She snored softly with her head bowed.

A sudden noise startled her out of unconsciousness.

"Water!" a voice croaked.

She frowned at the bed. Brian was awake.

"Water," he moaned. "I'm so thirsty!"

Sal sighed, reluctant to put any more fluid in him.

With a strangely desperate expression on his face, Brian muttered, "Don Gato. Four quarts equal a gallon. Four...pints...equal one quart. No wait. Four pints to into a peck. One liter goes into a gallon."

The expression on his face was one of genuine puzzlement, as if he were suffering a stroke.

Sal furrowed her brow in worry.


	25. Chapter 26: Dress Code

When I returned to bed, I dreamed I was standing naked on a rock shelf attached to a floating mountain, which I had climbed for some reason.

A cloud of multicolored pterodactyl shapes fluttered around the peak of this mountain, and I came to the realization that I was seeking one of them to ride.

When I reached the ledge, I found a cave, but the only thing I found inside was a giant pile of white fur, and, sprawled across it, I found a shapely blue female body wearing nothing but her dreadlocks.

She gestured to me invitingly, and as I came closer, I realized her face bore a striking resemblance to the girl with the furry neck I'd kissed earlier that evening.

It was a dream, so I laid down with her and touched lips, but when I opened her mouth and stuck in my tongue, the tongue felt like a sort of carpet made of liver, with two throbbing "fingers" sticking out on the sides.

Confused, I squinted and opened my eyes.

When I saw a cyclops eye staring back at me, and the body attached to it, I suddenly came to the realization that my mouth was somewhere it ought not to be.

I pushed Dino away with a scream, spitting every which way as I tried to get the rotten pork taste out of my mouth.

"What the fuck!"

That was when I heard the laughter.

When I looked up, I saw Rick grinning at his phone.

"That's priceless!" he laughed.

I turned scarlet. "What the hell is going on! What's Dino doing here!"

"She likes you, man."

Ibira said it was a "he", but I didn't feel like arguing the point.

"The thing kept crowing outside," said Snaker. "It wouldn't shut up. Since I knew it was your buddy, I fitted it with a Bazrok, brought it in, and laid it on your bed."

Rick cleared his throat, trying hard not to laugh. "I uh...saw you making kissing motions in your sleep, and your pet was getting all excited, so I couldn't resist!"

I rubbed my face in disbelief. "Don't ever do that again!"

"You have my word," Rick laughed. "But your look, it's hilarious!" He held the camera up to him to see.

I didn't want to look. "Lovely," I groaned.

"What did it taste like?"

I glared at him, hot with embarrassment. "What do you think it tasted like ! It was nasty! it's like I just licked the bottom of a garbage can!"

Rick chuckled.

Dino seemed to be terrified of my yelling. He backed away, whimpering like a beaten dog.

"It looks like you frightened it."

Rick squatted down to Dino's level and smiled. "I don't blame you. I'd be scared too."

The the next moment, it was launching at Rick's face, as if to kiss him.

"Whoa! No you don't!" He stood up suddenly. "You'd better teach this guy some manners!"

I crossed my arms. "And who exactly put that thing on my face during, while I was dreaming?" I almost said "during a wet dream," but I stopped myself.

Rick smirked at me. "Okay, so maybe we're at fault, but you're the pet parent."

I laughed a little, then sighed. "Great. What am I going to do with this thing?"

"How about you just curl up with it for awhile? You know, kind of like a dog or something? At least until it's time for breakfast?"

I scowled at him. "How about _you_ curl up with it?"

Rick raised his hands. "No way. That thing didn't want to shut up until we put it next to you." I could tell that wasn't the real reason.

I sighed.

"Think of it as a toy dog, or a teddy bear." He coughed. "Okay, maybe not a teddy bear, because that would be disturbing. But you get the idea. It's not like the animal is that that big. And if you start smooching it in your sleep again, I'll turn a blind eye...and let someone else take the picture."

I snickered despite myself and shook my head. "Oh all right."

And then I curled up with Dino and went to sleep.

At some point, my consciousness picked up a click and a voice talking about how cute the photo was, but I didn't stir from my slumber.

That was, of course, until I felt something warm spreading all over my shirt and pants.

I awoke to find my clothes soggy and smelling of rotten hamburger grease and window cleaner, with an Ikran innocently smiling up at me.

Disgusted, I took a trip up to the showers.

Dino, being too nosy for his own good, followed me in, watching the proceedings with curiosity until I savagely took advantage of the situation and stuck the little guy, squawking in protest, under the spray.

Once done, and dressed, Sam showed me the laundry facility, a strange set of machines that deducted money from my paycheck rather than taking quarters, and I washed my bedroll and a few days worth of soiled laundry (like the slimy pants) with paycheck purchased soap.

Breakfast came a little too soon, so I was glad to find that the cafeteria had coffee. Staggering in a sleep deprived haze, and doubting I'd have another opportunity to rest, I hurried straight for the coffee. I had the diaper on, so I put two cups of black coffee in one of those steel bottles, then grabbed a breakfast tray and sat down at an empty table, feeding Dino bits of my meal. I would have sat with Ibira, but she wasn't anywhere to be seen.

As I chomped on a piece of meat that could have been bacon, but probably wasn't, the girl with the fuzzy ears pulled up a chair next to me, sitting down.

I blushed.

"Wow. He's cute. What's his name?"

"Dino," I stammered.

With a laugh, she knelt down and petted it. "How did you get him?"

With a shrug, I told her.

"Nalah!" she exclaimed. "It sounds like you were very brave!"

"Not really," I said.

"He's just being modest," I heard a voice saying behind me.

I almost jumped out of my chair. "Ibira!"

I turned around, blushing furiously as I stared into my girlfriend's shiny black pupils.

"You're up early," she said with a smirk.

I nodded wearily. "The little guy peed on me!"

She giggled. "You should try an Itorwo," she said, plucking a strap on her harness. "There's less mess!"

"I'm not sure I'm that brave," I said.

She chuckled. "This I will have to work on."

"If you ever do," Sigma grinned. "You should parade him around the building a little. I'd like to see the results."

I blushed even deeper.

Ibira handed my pet a piece of fake bacon.

"He has quite an appetite," Sigma remarked.

"Yeah," I groaned. "Even after..." It didn't seem to be the proper time to be discussing how the thing devoured corpses. "Even after it pigged out yesterday." I shook my head. "Honestly, I'm not sure what I'm going to do with this guy. I can't just stuff him inside a locker when I'm working..."

"I'm sure you will find out something."

I stared at the two girls, or, more accurately, females. "Did you two know each other before our little party game last night?"

Sigma shook her head no, but Ibira elbowed her.

"Yes," they both said in unison.

I gawked at them in surprise. "Was it here or the bank building/"

They shook their heads.

"Was it that slavery place?"

The girls turned their heads and stared at each other for a moment, muttering back and forth.

"No," said Ibira.

"What slavery place?" Sigma asked with a mystified expression. "Is he talking about Salusa Secondus?"

Ibira shook her head. "Yeodvax."

"Oh. no. not Yeodvax."

"Was it the tentacle..accessory place?"

Another blank look. "Tentacle?"

"Apidisru," Ibira prompted.

"Oh. Right."

They both nodded.

"I didn't know she was here until yesterday."

Sigma flicked her tail. "I spend a lot of time in the office, so I don't notice a lot of things."

"What she means," said Ibira. "Is that she spends a lot of time mas-"

She was silenced by a jab to the spot below her upper set of arms, something only the initiated could hope to pull off successfully.

"I play video games," Sigma blurted, but her face looked pinker than it should. Well, actually it was sort of a splotchy pink mixed with other colors, but it seemed to be blushing.

"What kind?" I said.

The color seemed to deepen, but she cleared her throat and said, "Oh? Um, Buirbac War, Ummolah Miudzeb, Lapirke Fighter, Elder Scrolls, Diablo, even Warcraft when I have a connection. Sometimes I get too involved in them and forget to do my job."

Being the average nerdy homebody, this immediately piqued my interest. "Cool. Do you have an X-Box?"

"No, but I have a Playstation."

Ibira rolled her eyes. It appeared that I was turning her off.

Undeterred, I said, "What games do you have?"

My girlfriend's displeasure seemed to increase as Sigma listed off the various games.

"Wow. That's a nice collection!" I said.

"You can come by my office sometime and try them out if you want."

A glance at Ibira told me this was a bad idea.

"Um, okay." I stammered. "Maybe I will sometime." But I really didn't mean it.

I gave Ibira a nervous grin. "We missed class yesterday. Do you know what we're suposed to be doing?"

"I think..." she tapped her tusk. "We start doing real calls. We probably go to the actual call center today."

She checked the clock on her harness. "We should probably get going."

"Good luck!" Sigma smiled.

I and Dino followed Ibira down the hallway. As we passed by the laundry room, Ibira said, "I think Sigma wants to show you something more than games. If you want to make me happy, Jason, stay out of her office."

I swallowed. "Sure. No problem. I play too many games anyway."

She wrapped two of her right arms around me and gave me a squeeze.

We arrived at the call center room I'd been shown before. And after a few minutes of wandering around from drum shaped cubicle to drum shaped cubicle, and not knowing what to do, I returned to the classroom and found Vuembi sitting at a desk, reading e-mail and USA Today.

"Hi," I said. "We were out yesterday evening. What did we miss?"

Vuembi shrugged. "We took some calls."

He pressed a clear plastic package into my hands.

I gazed through the clear plastic at a folded piece of blue fabric.

I frowned. "What is this?"

"Your new uniform. I suggest you change as soon as you can."

I opened the package, staring in disbelief at what I was pulling out.

I could only describe it as a dress. It was a navy blue-purple thing with a ruffled skirt, puff sleeves, and a big silver logo across the chest.

I stared at it in bafflement, slightly irritated that someone could even make a mistake of this magnitude. "Uh, I hate to break it to you, but this isn't a men's."

Vuembi laughed. "Oh it's a men's all right. You're just not used to Harfon clothing. Note how the front section makes no allowance for breasts."

I reddened. "You're kidding me."

"No. No were not," said Vuembi. "Standard company uniform when working with the Harfons and other races."

I blushed deeper. "I'm not wearing this."

There was no mirth in the instructor's expression. "You don't have a choice. It's the official company dress code. The client can see us, so we have to dress appropriately. It's either a uniform or a nice zugtanj and mikkobi, which I seriously doubt you have access to."

My face turned a solid beet red. "You're serious."

Vuembi raised his hands in frustration. "I didn't make this up."

I swallowed. "I'm...required to wear this."

He gave me a violent nod. "Yes! Go change!"

He made it sound as ordinary as wearing a white shirt, tie and slacks to the office, but there was no way I could tell myself it was ordinary.

I stared at him, then stared at the dress, then stared at him again, feeling my face and ears burn steadily hotter with the humiliation.

Then he gave me this look that said, "Well? I haven't got all day!"


	26. Chapter 27: Micromanager

I held the dress up against my body, then glanced up at my green companion. "Is he shitting me? Is this really the uniform I'm supposed to wear?"

She slowly dipped her head, giving me an apologetic smirk.

I sighed and shook my head.

When I told Ms. Augustine I'd do anything to keep my job, I meant it. As long as they weren't cutting open my skull, I'd do anything they said.

Okay, so I had actually said that I would "bend over backwards to keep my job," but that's not something I wanted to think about when being asked to wear something that leaves my rear end exposed.

This was pushing the boundary of what I was willing to do for the company.

"Everyone wears these?" I asked.

"Yes," Vuembi said with impatience. "Everybody. Now get dressed. You're wasting time."

"I won't think you any less of a man," Ibira smiled.

Although I had moral objections to wearing a dress, based on Deuteronomy, the boss said my uniform wasn't one, so I rationalized that even the Romans in the bible wore skirts.

That worked for me, though it still didn't quite justify the ruffles.

Oh well. It was a job requirement. If it were something less trivial to my faith, I would have taken offense.

Therefore, with my ears burning, I hurried to the door, dress in hand.

I stopped when I noticed that Ibira hadn't moved any. She only watched me with amusement.

"Aren't _you_ going to change?" I asked.

She shrugged all four arms. "They still haven't made me a special uniform."

Blushing furiously, I took the dress down the hall to the bathroom and changed, my embarrassment growing with every breezy flutter of my skirt on the way back.

The skirt only stopped at mid thigh. I don't know what planet considers that acceptable, but earth businesses require skirts to be knee length. This added an entirely new dimension to my embarrassment.

They hadn't given me regulation shoes.

I wouldn't have asked for them, even if they had any. They probably would have been pumps or platform wedges. Kind of like the ones I had been selling before they closed my old department and moved me to Sprint.

As I reached the classroom, I turned red as a lobster when someone gave me a mocking wolf whistle.

I marched up to Vuembi , crossing my arms. "Okay. I'm dressed. I don't care what you say, I'm not shaving my legs."

He looked at me like I was crazy. "I didn't ask you to."

Apparently, he didn't ask me to wear high heels, either. I kept my mouth shut about that. And the stockings.

"Fine," I said, glancing around the room. "I'm ready. What do I do now?"

"Climb into a Tivsok and start taking calls." He got up. "Since you weren't here during assignments, I'll show you where yours is. Bear in mind this will be the last time you will be reporting to me as manager. From now on you will be reporting to Necel Sebobo."

As I was marching out the door, he frowned at the dark shape waddling beside my naked legs.

I was too embarrassed to realize that Dino had been following me around the whole time. Well, beyond noticing that the Ikran was not big enough to hide myself behind.

"You're going to have to lose your pet," said Vuembi. "We can't have him urinating on the floor and damaging the equipment."

With an exasperated sigh, I said, "Have you seen Ibira?"

"She's working," Vuembi said. "Is it absolutely necessary for you to speak to her?"

"It would help. All I need is a couple minutes."

With a sigh, he led me over to one of the drums, pushing a button on the side.

I heard a musical chime, then Vuembi opened a hatch in the middle. "Make it quick."

Ibira had been speaking to a squat purple creature that bore a striking resemblance to Yoda, had Yoda been a cyclops.

She turned and smiled at me. "That uniform looks good on you."

Her eyes traveled downwards. "You do not shave your legs. I approve!"

Vuembi cleared his throat.

"Is something the matter?" Ibira asked.

I gestured to Dino. "I can't have him in my...cubicle thing."

She shrugged. "Take him down to the med lab. I think Sal has a few cages in back."

The cyclops chuckled. "I used to have one of those creatures."

Ibira turned her attention toward the hologram. "I'm sorry for the interruption, Mrs. Sicleck."

"Oh it's no trouble," the thing smiled. "Your boyfriend has nice legs."

"That he does."

My stomach did a flip-flop in response.

Vuembi quickly shut the hatch. "There. Now take care of your pet quickly. You're not making a very good start on your call productivity."

And so I hurried down to the med lab with my scaly pet in tow.

Although we were in a humid jungle, the building was either air conditioned or cool due to me being below basement level, or both, and I technically wasn't wearing pants.

As I walked down those cool corridors, I began to see the wisdom of stockings and nylons, but I could never bring myself to wear such a thing. I hadn't even thought to pack long underwear, because I hadn't expected a lot of things, so I just made myself walk faster, hoping that the employee drums were warmer.

The mini hospital was largely unattended. The blue guy wasn't present, so I instead had to attempt conversation with the purple salamander, who really didn't get what I was saying.

In the back corner, I could see a weary looking elf closing a curtain around a familiar looking man, but I couldn't make out who it was.

Noting that the female was currently unoccupied, I gestured for Mr. Salamander to bring her to me, provided she wasn't too exhausted.

Okay, so I really couldn't communicate the aforementioned polite nuances, but she came to me, at any rate.

Her dismal unhappy expression turning to glee at the sight of my little pet. I figured bringing that much brightness into her gloom was worth several please and thank yous.

After I had explained my situation, she brought a cage out of a nearby closet, and, after a bit of coaxing with a handful of Slim Jims, we had my pet caged and quietly chewing on the brown tubes of meat.

"Don't worry," she smiled. "We'll take good care of Dino while you're at work."

I thanked her, watching her cooing and petting the creature through the bars in such a way that both seemed to be pleased with the situation.

Happy to have a pet sitter, I reported back to Vuembi, who led me to that indeterminately sexed manager I'd met the other day.

"Sorry I'm late," I stammered to it. "I was out on a sortie yesterday evening."

Necel frowned. "That doesn't excuse you for today."

"I picked up a new pet yesterday," I said.

"I saw."

"Well," I persisted. "It wasn't easy putting it up."

Necel sighed. "I will give you a one time exception for this. Don't let it happen again."

"I won't," I blurted, despite being uncertain whether I could make good on that promise.

It inspected my uniform, tugging the disconcertingly low neck down to expose more skin, fixing my princess sleeves, straightening my skirt.

Necel handed me a black collar with square little devices on it. A laminated yellow badge hung from its center like a dog tag. "Here. Put this on."

I frowned at it. "Around my neck?"

"Where else are you going to put it? Of course it goes around your neck."

"What is this?" I asked.

"It's a communication device. The tag identifies you to the client."

I was humiliated, but I put it on anyway.

"Okay. You're ready," Necel said.

"Wait," I protested. "Don't I need an official non-training login or something?"

Necel rolled its eyes. "It's hanging around your neck."

I frowned. "Oh."

I paused and thought a brief moment. "So all of those passwords and codes we were typing were useless?"

It shrugged. "That's one of the drawbacks of not having an Iqyob sensor. Of course, you weren't properly dressed, so it had to be done that way."

"Are we still doing activations?" I asked.

"No. While you were out, we went over collections. Your record says you are familiar with the collections process, are you not?"

I took a deep breath. "Not alien collections."

"Don't worry about it," Necel said. "Just follow the script like you were doing activations, then transition into what you know from Sprint. It's not that complicated."

I sighed and nodded.

Necel examined my dog tag for a minute, then led me to a barrel with a matching symbol in the middle of the cluster of chrome barrels, opening it up.

Necel gestured for me to get in, so I did.

The hatch slammed shut quick, and I was left standing like a dumb cow in front of the console, wondering why I didn't get to have a chair.

As if in a trance, I flipped over some rocks on the computer device and went through the normal activation procedure.

Just seconds after I did this, the whole collar starts vibrating, and little microphones pop out of two of the boxes.

Immediately following this, I see my first customer. My first real video call had commenced.

My customer looked exactly like what I expected a Na'vi to look. Blue, with dreadlocks and actual cat features, but this one wore a dress like mine. Well, not exactly like mine, nicer.

Despite my amused grinning, our encounter turned out to be anything but pleasant. The guy interrupted my required scripted greeting, then, when I asked for a payment, he got indignant, arguing that his planet didn't use percentages, and nobody explained to him what they were for.

I asked him if he knew what a hold was. When he said no, and had it explained, the guy seemed okay with me leaving, so I stepped out the door for a moment.

I found my questionably gendered boss at its cubicle eating. I tapped it on the shoulder, and it almost leaped into the air.

"What are you doing out here?"

"This guy says he doesn't know what a percentage is."

Necel frowned. "That's not our fault. Try to get a payment anyway."

"No. I mean, his planet doesn't have percentages."

It rolled its eyes. "He's full of it. Any planet that has credit has to have percentages. How else would you calculate interest? Next time you want me, press the supervisor button. You're not supposed to leave your Tivsok until lunch."

With a sigh, I climbed back in my booth.

I found the "Na'vi" leaning against a wall, waiting patiently for me.

"Sorry," I said, and the discussion resumed.

It turned out the detail about the percentages didn't help, for the next issue was how he refused to pay anything more than the original amount he charged on his U.S. Bank Visa card.

I guess they were right about it being everywhere you want to be, though I'm not sure I'd want to exist anywhere in proximity to credit card debt, if I can help it.

I found himself shocked at how similar the situation was to the phone billing issues I'd been doing previously. I knew just what to say to end the call (albeit without a payment), and I went on to my next call thinking maybe scientists were right to think that math is the universal language, after all.

The next call wasn't so bad. I met a Rastafarian fish creature in a robe with fins on the sides of its head, a guy that was in a hurry, but eager to pay.

After this, I had another big headed humanoid thing that looked like it leapt right out of a UFO abduction story, then I called a bunch of "answering machines", weird holograms that acted like real customers, but then asked for messages after going through a series of decision tree conversations.

I listened to some hard luck stories from a shaggy three eyed beast, and another from a little wrinkly gnome with pointy ears before running through a few billing disputes and another slew of answering machines.

Two years of collections experience, and a translator living in my ear canal. I wasn't perfect at this new job, but I wasn't floundering. I knew my stuff enough to be adequate. Or so I thought.

After an hour of calls, I saw my Gezrot glow bright red, and a floating medallion reading "Training: Ten Minutes" appeared above the keyboard.

I turned and saw the door being opened by a tall muscular bald man with a little beard and a long striped shirt that extended nearly to his knees. He looked like the tough bodybuilder type you'd see in a prison.

"Jason. Come out here," he said. "I want you to watch some calls."

Now there's a phrase I didn't hear every day.

"I thought we couldn't leave until break?"

"It's training," he said. "C'mon."

And so I followed the stranger through the maze of booths to a big drum at the end.

"My name is Dennis Goldick, by the way. I'm your new manager. I'm a transfer from the U.S. Bank facility."

"Uh, hi," I said. "Nice to meet you." I wasn't sure of the accuracy of that statement.

He sniffed the air. "Do you smell bleach?"

Knowing exactly what it was, I shrugged and said, "No?"

"Never mind," Dennis frowned.

He led me into a big drum at the end of the row, closing the door as we stepped inside.

The boss flipped some keys on the computer in the center, and then stood back as a hologram of myself and my pulsating cactus of a customer appeared in the center of the room.

Already I was uncomfortable. In addition to being embarrassed about the dress, I also didn't like the sound of my own voice. I winced as I listened, not really wanting to hear the dumb things coming out of my own mouth.

Sure, it was an alien cactus, but that just made me feel even dumber.

"You could have offered him a reduced payment option. You didn't even look at the Horvab to see what he had access to."

How the hell could he tell what sex that cactus was? I didn't bother asking. "Sorry. I just didn't think of it."

Dennis gave me a stern look. "Jason. You're not allowed to not think. We've got to work on this to make your calls better."

Heat flushed to my face in anger. How dare he tell me not to make involuntary mistakes? If they were voluntary, I wouldn't be making them!

"Also, you paused too long between sentences," he continued. "It gave him time to argue and cut into your handle time."

A few flipped rocks, and I saw a chart of holographic numbers floating in the air.

He pointed to a set of red ones. "Your average handle time is fifteen minutes. The required time is ten or less. Not good. Can you explain to me what's been causing so many delays?"

I swallowed hard. "No one told me how to handle those...answering machines."

Dennis towered over me, giving him an intimidating stare. "Are you telling me you can't figure out an answering machine?"

He made it sound like I were a moron.

"Not like these ones," I stammered.

I could feel the guy's hot stinking breath in my face. "You went over this," he said, slapping his hands together in a threatening manner. "You had it in training."

"Actually," I stammered. "I don't remember ever going over this."

With my girly outfit and my boss playing the role of the skinhead bodybuilder boss, I suddenly felt like I were a prison bitch trying to argue with a dom.

"I know what you studied," he said. "You went over Zipmor training. I know you did. I went through it. You went through it. Don't you lie to my face and tell me you didn't go over it."

As I felt the weight of the man's cold, soulless eyes, I decided he could probably make me believe whatever he wants, and do whatever he says, including pulling up my skirt and bending over.

My blood boiled as he stared at the man, almost one hundred percent certain that he was completely wrong, but the door had been opened for doubt and uncertainty. Had I been paying attention?

"I still don't remember that lesson," I said. "I was out on a sortie last evening. I think you must have had the lesson then."

Dennis shook his head. "You were doing calls yesterday. I checked the lesson plans. No new hire is put out on the floor unless they have this training. You would have had to have the lesson at some time or another."

I remembered that I had actually had lessons for part of the day before, but Dennis seemed to redefine reality whenever it suited him.

I sighed. This is hopeless, I thought. He will never listen to me whatever I say. "I was out with Victor securing Hell's Gate," I protested. "The lesson could have been after lunch when I was out. That's probably why I missed it."

Dennis looked irritated. "Zipmor would have been given the first day. Victor knew this, and that's why he didn't pull you out of classes until yesterday, when your class was breaking into live calls. No, you just weren't paying attention."

I sighed and shook my head.

His gaze bored into me like Superman's laser beam eyes. "You disagree with me. That's why you're shaking your head now. Why do you disagree with me? Do you think I'm wrong? Tell me."

You could cut the tension with a knife. "I...never mind," I growled in frustration, but this was a dragon that would not easily die, even with its head missing.

"Oh I do mind. I'm only here to help you, Jason. Please. Allow me to help you."

Hiding all emotion, I gave Dennis a robotic reply. "I...wasn't paying attention. And I'm sorry."

"Why aren't you paying attention?" His tone of voice seemed to tell me that he had already written the pink slip, and was itching to hand it out. "What were you doing instead?"

Tense silence.

I swallowed. "I...was doodling." It was a lie, but it had the flavor of truth. The last thing I wanted to do was give him another weapon to attack me with.

Dennis sighed. "Jason. You can't be doodling during a lesson!" he took a deep breath. "Go into Goxnor. It has some training modules for dealing with Zipmor. It will help you."

Zipmor was our helpdesk program. Vuembi bragged that it was "robust", but I found the thing generally unhelpful.

"Now, I want to go over some other things you did during this call..."

He fast forwarded to a segment where I was clearly adjusting my diaper.

"What is that?"

"What is what?"

He pointed at the mirror image frozen with its hands conspicuously under its skirt.

"I was uncomfortable."

"The client was watching. Don't do that."

"I can't help it."

Dennis glared at me. "You can. You have control over your own body."

I sighed.

He fast forwarded to a section where I was rubbing my nose on my sleeve. "And what is that?"

At this point, I decided that corporate video chat was the worst idea one could have. I longed to go back to my old job where I was just a faceless voice talking to faceless customer voices, where I could give people the finger and blow my nose indiscreetly and get away with it.

Rolling my eyes, I said, "I didn't have any Kleenex."

"And why not?"

I shrugged. "I didn't bring any. I didn't know I needed them."

I really didn't want to bother with buying them. Ordinarily I just grab paper towels from the restroom, but, of course, my dress had no pockets to speak of.

"You could have asked me for Kleenex," Dennis glared.

"Sorry. I didn't know."

"You don't know." He glowered at me. "You seem to be saying that a lot. But I think you do know." He put a hand on my shoulder. "I'm here for you Jason. I want you to feel like you can come to me for anything."

I gulped.

I wouldn't come to him for the time of day. All that passive-aggressive posturing was doing nothing for me.

But on it went.

I got critiqued for my tone of voice, body language, the time it took between words, my exhalations and the unconscious verbal tics I did by accident and had no real control over.

I let the scathing barrage of criticism wash over me like a bullshit tidal wave, merely nodding and agreeing with everything Dennis said rather than eating up time arguing with such a brick wall.

After awhile, I grew impatient with the lecturing, wishing he would either write me up and be done with it, or punch me in the face and let me duke it out with him a few rounds. I would have welcomed either one at this point.

I would have preferred if he just let me go, forgetting my mistakes and letting me try harder on my own, but I live in the real world.

After such a rousing pep talk, I staggered into my booth as a tightly wound bundle of anxiety and nervous tension.

I viewed each passing minute of my shift with nervous dread, fearful that the slightest act would somehow provoke a similarly threatening interrogation.

I breathed a sigh of relief when my calls were interrupted by a chime and a hologram of a chicken drumstick. The words "Lunch Break: 30 Minutes" appeared below it, confirming my assumption.

It ticked down to 29.

I hurried out, thankful to finally escape Dennis's ever present scrutiny.

Somewhat to my relief, I discovered that others in the cafeteria were dressed in outfits similar to mine, both men and women.

Some didn't have collars, but a lot of them did. With actual photos on the tags.

A few people were dressed in normal Earth business casual attire, but I figured they were management.

The cafeteria staff was serving beans and cornbread, with the usual alien mystery meat. I took a tray from Osmifa and sat down at my usual table, with my usual dining companion.

"How do you like the new job?" Ibira asked.

I shrugged. "It was okay before I got monitored."

I told her about what happened.

She smiled. "You get used to it."

I asked about the people in slacks and polos.

"Those are senior agents," she shrugged. "They're tenured, so they get the special projects. The rules are different."

I sighed.

As I commenced eating, I watched her open her mouth, spearing a chunk of cornbread. It whipped into her mouth, and she was chewing it contentedly.

Getting dry mouthed, I swallowed, instinctively crossing my legs as I thought about our last kiss. I wasn't quite ready to show her what was going on under my skirt. At least, not yet.

She chuckled through her nose. Was I really that easy to read?

Something squawked.

I looked up and suddenly noticed Sigma standing in line, with what appeared to be a pair of leathery wings sprouting out of her left shoulder.

She held up a piece of meat, and a little beak popped out and snapped it up, wiggling its tail behind her neck. She giggled.

A few minutes later, she was setting a tray down at our table, and the thing on her shoulder suddenly let out a series of happy whines and squealing sounds, joyfully flapping its wings.

"Dino!" I grinned.

The next moment, my pet was latching onto my face, licking my cheeks, and trying to pry my mouth apart.

The next thing I knew, it was peeing, and I came close to having to find a replacement uniform.

I got a mop bucket from the kitchen staff and cleaned up.

"Wow!" Sigma laughed. "He really misses you!"

I furrowed my brow. The girl seemed to be bent on muscling in between me and Ibira. "How did you end up with him?"

"I heard a noise in Nobdar's room. Apparently he'd been trying to plug into its head with his own attachment, and your friend didn't like it. He said he got tired of it making noise, so he let me take care of it."

"Did either of you hear about Brian?" Ibira asked.

Sigma stared at the table. "Nothing new."

"What about Brian?" I said.

"I...I'm not sure. He's been admitted for treatment in the med lab, and they're thinking it's severe heat stroke." For a moment, she clutched her tusks, seemingly lost in thought. "I don't think that's what it is somehow."

I frowned in worriment. "You think he'll be okay?"

"I...don't know. He's acting really strange. Sal thinks he has the classic signs of stroke, but...something is off."

I shook my head. "It wasn't ...exactly hot last night I seem to remember the sun setting when we left him there."

"What's what Victor was saying."

It was depressing. As much as I was annoyed by the guy, I couldn't help but feel sorry for him, and wish him a speedy recovery.

"You think he'll pull through?"

Sigma sighed. "It's hard to say. nobody seems to know what's happening to him."

"Are people allowed to visit him?"

Ibira shrugged. "It's not a hospital."

I stood up.

"You're going to see him now?"

"Yeah." I made myself smile. "By the way. Thanks for taking care of Dino."

Sigma grinned. "It was no problem at all. He's adorable. Any time you want me to babysit, just drop him off at my office. I'll take good care of him."

"Thanks." I petted the creature, happy to have such a devoted friend. "In fact, um, "

She nodded. "You got to go back to work. I understand completely."

And she took Dino off of my hands, cradling him in her arms. It seemed they were on good terms.

Noticing the time on my watch, I hurried down the hallway, stepping into a mini hospital smelling of cleaning chemicals and rot.

A pair of labcoated figures hunched over the bed in the corner, muttering to one another about something. Since nobody seemed to notice, I crept closer, listening to their conversations.

Brian coughed loudly, a painfully dry cough. "Water," he cried. "Water!"

Sal humored him by giving him a cup.

"He's still guzzling water, even with the saline drip," she said to the blue guy. "I tried to treat the allergy and dry cough with antihistamines, but it only made it worse."

Brian muttered something about the different measures in metric conversion, but none of it was accurate.

"If that isn't stroke, I don't know what is."

Sal sat down in Brian's line of sight, gazing at him with pity. "Brian. Please. Tell me what happened to you."

He swallowed heavily, croaking out each word like a man who had walked for miles through a desert without any water. "I know not happen. Explosion. Feel I good not now not I."

She sat bolt upright. "You were in an explosion? Something exploded?"

He nodded. "I have glass can water need."

He let out a single barking laugh, then stopped looking so amused.

"What is brain with wrong me?"

Sal choked down a sob. "I don't know."

"Time it what is?"

She frowned. "A little after twelve hundred."

His expression reflected utter bafflement.

After a long pause, he said, "Dunno can sure work not I."

"No, I don't think working is a good idea, Brian. You're much too sick."

He stared at the ceiling. "Dry orange mouth have is. Can I glass aaay?"

"I'd hold off on the fluids," said the blue guy. "Something is sucking them up like a sponge, and it's not going out anywhere."

"Help a beer maybe might," Brian croaked.

Sal frowned. "Alcohol only dehydrates your system, Brian."

"Oh," he sighed. "Can have anyway?"

"I'm sorry. No."

Brian mumbled incoherently.

"Brian. Tell me. What exploded? What happened to you?"

"Powder. Puffgirls. Magic School Bus. Facial Spacial Machine."

He leaned closer, grinning at her. "I farted on Santa's lap."

She chuckled, but the smile dropped from her face a second later as he watched him toss and turn in the bed.

"He said something about a powder," she muttered to the blue guy. "Could be important."

"I doubt it. From what I can tell, his brain is just restructuring itself, and throwing us anything remotely coherent in attempts at communication. You know what they say, `garbage in, garbage out.'"

Repeatedly gurgling something about being tied to the whipping post, Brian slammed his fists into the blankets.

I wondered if the outburst had some connection with the Allman Brothers, but the noises he made could hardly be described as singing.

He bit into the flap of skin between his thumb and index finger until it drew blood.

"Brian! No!"

She yanked his hand away, sterilizing and bandaging the wound.

For the next five minutes, he did nothing but groan and mumble incoherently about water.

"Brian?" she said. "Brian? Can you understand me?"

"Two times two equals seven," he stammered.

She frowned, pretending to ignore the mistake. "Are you all right? Is everything okay?"

"Four pints equal a gallon," he gurgled. "Four...quarts...equal one quart." He scowled, as if angry at his brain for not firing the appropriate neurons correctly. "Five bushels in a peck. One liter makes one gallon."

He hit his head with his fist. "No no no!" He shouted. "Wrong! Dumb brain! One liter goes...one liter goes..." He furrowed his brow. "One liter...goes..." He struck himself again.

Sal grabbed his wrist. "Stop. Don't hurt yourself."

With a sigh, she dug around in a cabinet until she found a conversion chart.

She held it up for him to see, reading from it. "Four quarts go into a gallon, Brian. See? Two pints are in a quart, and four bushels are in a peck."

Brian sat bolt upright. "Stop reading my thoughts! Security!" he screamed. "Security!"

A moment later, a short stocky bald man stomped into the room. "What's going on in here!"

"Yes," Brian cried. "Get this woman out of here!"

"Brian," said Victor. "That's Sal."

Blank stare. "Who?"

Sal noticed Victor staring at her, as if to say "Is this a joke?"

She shrugged.

The midget's face flushed red with anger. "Brian, stop fucking around. This isn't funny."

Brian squinted at the midget. "Who are you? You...look familiar."

"He's showing signs of stroke." Sal shook her head. "He's having an episode, I'm afraid."

She took a deep breath. "He had some unusual eyelid fluttering earlier. You know, facial tics. I thought it would help to treat him for Bell's Palsy. For awhile, I thought it helped..."

Victor paled as he beheld the pathetic lump occupying the bed. "You gave him meds?"

Sal nodded. "But his symptoms aren't going away. The antibiotic is supposed to help, but I don't see any improvement."

For a moment, she stared forlornly at his blank features, touching a finger to her lips as she slipped into a semi-catatonic state.

She placed a hand on the man's thigh, sliding it upwards in a non-medical way.

So there was something between them, I thought.

Brian's anger ceased, replaced by an expression of pure bafflement.

"Do I know you?"

The girl sniffled, wiping her eyes. "It has to be a stroke!" she said in a strangled sob. "We should do some brain scans."

"We already did that," said the blue guy. "They came out negative."

"He's been like this all day," she choked.

Squeezing Brian's hand, she forced calm into her voice. "Brian. This is Sally. I...want to help you get better, but I need you to tell me what's wrong."

Blank stare.

"Brian?" she said in the calm, but demanding tone she'd used with geriatric patients. "I want you to tell me how you feel. How are you feeling right now?"

"Spiderman needs eggs," said Brian.

"See?" Victor laughed. "He just made a joke. He's okay."

"I...ff...I feel...I...I...ffeel..." He looked bewildered. "Feel."

Sal sighed impatiently. "You feel what?"

"I ffeel. Feel. I feel." The expression of panic was clear on his face. He looked like he were struggling to remember something important.

Unable to take any more, Sal ran crying from the room.

When the blue guy noticed me prying, I stepped back, and found myself bumping into a short body.

"Sorry" I blurted, stepping aside.

"Nice dress," Victor remarked.

"Whatever."

"Hey, uh, we're going to have to put a hold on our whole action plan until Brian recovers. I hope that's okay with you. If not, well, too bad. He's an important asset to the team. He's got some important connections and skills we need to successfully carry out our next mission."

I sighed.

"Sorry, kid. You're not excused from work today. Speaking of which, hasn't it been thirty minutes already?"

I checked my watch. "Shit!"

And I bolted up the hallway to the call room.

When I arrived at my booth, gasping and panting for breath, I found Dennis standing in front of it like an ogre, arms crossed.

"You're late."

I checked my watch. "It's only five minutes," I panted.

"You're under contract to be here on time. You can't even be one minute late."

I stared at the floor.

"Look at me. Do we have an understanding?"

I looked up, but chose to pay attention to his goatee and his shiny bald head. "It takes one minute to talk to me," I stammered.

"That may be true, but if you want to keep this job, you need to start coming in on time."

"But I do come in on time! This is just a one time thing! I was seeing Brian!"

"You can see Brian on your free time off the clock. While you're timed in, I want you here and logged in on time. Do I make myself clear?"

Jason stared into his ice blue eyes. "Fine. Yes."

He breathed on me. It was like I was standing under a bull's mouth. "It's not `_fine_,'" he scolded. "Look, Jason. We're not demanding that much from you. I realize that the Sprint project handled things differently, but this is DOGOS and we're not on earth anymore. We've taken away your excuses. You can't tell me you got stuck in traffic or there's a blizzard outside and that's why you're going to be three minutes late for your shift. No. There are no excuses anymore, and I want you to be here, clocked in, on time, and not standing outside your booth gasping for air. Do we have an understanding?"

I was staring at the floor again. We had futuristic drums from an alien planet, but the carpet there was identical to the one in the Sprint department upstairs.

"Jason. Look at me."

With a sigh, I stared at his goatee.

"Tell me if you don't understand this and I'll explain it. Do you understand what needs to be done from now on, or would you like for me to explain it again?"

I nodded. "Got it."

Leave me the fuck alone! I thought.

"Good."

Dennis gestured for me to get in the booth. It was only when I'd activated the communication system that I realized I still needed to study up on the answering machines. Right when I had no time allotted for doing so.

I started to seriously wonder if this was what hell was like.


	27. Chapter 28: Brain Drain

He kept stuttering. He knew what he wanted to say, but it felt like he were having a stroke and couldn't get the words out. He never had that trouble before.

As much as he struggled to figure it out, he didn't understand why this was happening.

He no longer understood much of anything.

The doctors were talking, but what they were saying had little meaning to him.

"Not good," Sally was saying to the blue guy. "The fungal infection is struggling against his bacteria for dominance. I administered some antibiotics, but it doesn't seem to be helping. I'm afraid to administer too much, since we risk killing him or making the condition worse."

"I'm afraid that's part of the problem. Antibiotics. You've been introducing fungus into a fungoid mass."

The female elf started sobbing.

Brian felt sorry for her. He wanted her to stop crying, but he couldn't quite remember why that was so important.

He was losing it.

The longer he laid there in the hospital bed, the less he could form coherent sentences in his brain, or even associate the word brain with the image of one.

Everything he knew just slowly disappeared into the fog that seemed to be enveloping his brain.

He no longer knew Algebra, or Spanish, or even how to read.

He still knew what a headache was, and what aspirin was, and he managed to ask for it, but they only gave him two, and his head still hurt.

Gone was all the stuff he learned in grade school, from the alphabet to tying his shoes. The light was out in his mental video store, and even his knowledge about religion had been sucked into a pit of quicksand.

His blackouts occurred in greater and greater frequency, each one continuing for a much longer duration than the last.

And then it happened.

One moment he was lying still in his hospital bed, then suddenly everything went black, and he was outside, stumbling through the alien jungle, with no idea how he got there.

He stumbled ahead, eyes refusing to function enough to tell him where he was going.

His scalp felt itchy.

His face felt numb.

As he looked around in all directions, he could find nothing familiar like that brick building he had once slept in.

Of course, even if he had seen it, he wouldn't have recognized it, since that part of his mind had left as well.

He didn't even know his own name.

All he knew was he was thirsty.

So very thirsty.

And he saw moisture beading up on the leaves of a nearby tree.

He attacked them savagely, like an animal, letting the cool but sticky plant sap pour down his parched throat.

The glop tasted like soap and mustard, but he didn't care. He blindly stripped the branch of..._whatever_ bare, then attacked the next one he got his hands on.

He suddenly felt tired.

Dizzy.

Disoriented.

Drowsy.

He didn't remember the words, but he understood the feeling coming from his brain stem.

He surrendered to the feeling, plopping down in front of a tree, resting the back of his head against the waffled purple bark.

He had another blackout, but this one turned out to be much, much longer than the rest.


	28. Chapter 29: You Go, Girl

I was getting used to the calls. The answering machines, while complicated, had shortcuts and standardized things in them, and in my live calls, I also learned to look for problematic conversations, such as the ones that tried to get me to divulge private customer information through intimidation and trickery.

When the first customer of the hour appeared, I nearly fled the room before realizing the alien wasn't actually in the booth with me.

It was one of the rodent things I'd seen in that hidden room, and this time it wasn't even wearing lingerie.

As I stumbled through the opening greeting, I counted eight nipples on the thing, like the underbelly of some sort of dog, and I saw something that looked like a pink mouth with human-like teeth between her legs.

She didn't seem to care if I looked, and acted too angry to be wanting anything but business.

Breathing a sigh of relief, I launched into a collection pitch, then listened as she told me her hard luck story.

I forced myself to look serious, forcing down a grin as he listened to her very seriously describing how she had to take time off work to incubate all her children in her mouth and milking older ones, and how she spends the rest of her remaining time crawling around in swamps in search of medicinal roots to regurgitate into her childrens' mouths.

I said I was sorry to hear about her difficulty, but said there was nothing I could do.

She looked sad, but accepted it.

"You have gorgeous legs," she said as she vanished from sight.

Before I started work at DOGOS, I never got compliments like this. It seemed like only aliens from outer space had this opinion about me.

Immediately after that call, I ended up facing another one of those creatures, this one in a camisole and boots.

Rolling my eyes, I read the script, and immediately she started complaining about not being able to cancel an online order she placed just a few minutes ago.

I squinted at her in confusion for a minute, then, remembering my earlier lesson, clicked the supervisor call button and waited.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"I think you got the wrong number. I need to figure out where to transfer you."

"I thought this was Zorarber."

"I...I don't know," I said.

She sighed. "Hurry up. I don't want that outfit. The money has to be applied to something else."

We stared at each other for about five minutes before a horned yellow reptile appeared in the booth.

"Hello. This is manager 89564. How can I help?"

"I..." I stammered. "There must be some mistake. She's asking me about a shopping order. I'm with DOGOS. I do collections."

"Actually," said the reptile. "You handle whatever overflow that comes through this channel. Help her with the order."

And he vanished.

"Great!" I sighed, turning to my customer.

I took a deep breath. "Okay, um, I'm sorry. I didn't know I was supposed to handle this/this was part of my job description. Now how can I help you with this order?"

"Cancel it!" she snapped. "And the money better not have been taken out while I've been waiting!"

After fumbling around in the computer a minute, I found an ordering system. It seemed to accept my credentials, but I hadn't used it before, and only recognized it because it had shipping maps and pictures of clothing.

I seemed to remember Vuembi glossing over that particular program, telling me that I "wouldn't have to worry about it, because we wouldn't be doing online orders."

I figured out how to roll her ID tag into the database, bringing up an English screen telling me about the order, but I found it had been shipped already.

When I told her, she shouted "What! That's it! I want to talk to your supervisor! I'm absolutely certain you could have canceled it if you had been on task when we first started the call. You're going to give my money back, and you're going to call whoever it is that ships the order and stop it, or you're going to get me someone who can!"

"Okay," I stammered. "But you know how long it took last time."

She shrugged, hissing impatiently as I called one up.

Another five minutes later, I had a lispy sounding Mexican guy in a black and gold dress. His shiny hair appeared to be kept in perfect suspension by several layers of Brylcreem.

"My name is Hector," he said. "Manager 4544652. How may I assist?"

"I got a sup call," I said. "She wants a supervisor."

He gave me an annoyed look. "Did you go through the call resolution handbook?"

"Uh, what's that?"

Hector's tan colored hands flipped through my computer, opening a floating book displaying information about call resolution.

Filing that away for future reference, I blurted, "That's, uh, great, but she specifically asked for a supervisor."

Sighing, the Latino spoke to the rodent. "Our apologies, but we cannot cancel this order, but I'd like to see how I can help. May I ask what the occasion is?"

"I'm going to a gathering," she said. "And I really don't think that radbusa cacsuru will impress anyone."

The supervisor crossed his arms and squinted at her. "Are you sure? I admit that the cacsuru isn't for everybody, but you've got a very curvy body shape. Size 2, are you?"

She nodded.

Putting one hand on his hip, Hector let his other dangle limp on his wrist in a flamboyantly homosexual manner. "Girl, you are going to rock it! If I'm wrong, you can always return it or exchange it. You have twenty dates from the delivery date. But I think this is going to be a very good look for you."

"Wow," she stammered. "If you really think so..."

He swished around the customer, still doing the `I'm A Little Teapot' thing. "Sugar, I _know_ so!"

The rodent squealed with delight and gave him a holographic kiss.

When she vanished, I stared at the Mexican in shock.

"That bitch will probably be the laughing stock of the party, but I made her feel good about herself. That's ninety percent of this job."

I laughed.

"When you can see them, it makes it a lot easier."

And then he vanished.

Despite all the advice, I still wasn't completely confident with dealing with alien clothing orders, and it seemed management understood, for I didn't seem to get any more calls about the subject for awhile.

Resuming collections mode, I called some answering machines, transferred someone with an allegedly unapproved charge to the fraud department, and got a supervisor to approve the removal of a late fee.

For a moment, I thought I understood the job, but then a strange man with long floppy ears and a black dress started asking me what kind of outfit he should order.

I attempted the flattery method, but I wasn't that familiar with the inventory, so my customer saw through the act and asked for a more seasoned representative.

Since I couldn't do that, I got a supervisor, and I sat there for about ten minutes as the two went over the order for a large amount of items.

From the next few hours, my duties flipflopped between collections and fashion, doing so-so in the former, and positively horrible in the latter.

Dennis didn't give me any further reviews, so I thought I did okay.

When the symbol for dinner break appeared above my computer, I walked out of the call room full of optimism about becoming a good agent of the company.

You can guess how long that optimism lasted.


	29. Chapter 30: Embraced By The Light

Brian saw a white light, then he found himself kneeling on all fours in front of a throne.

He looked up and saw something he couldn't comprehend.

Whatever it was seemed man shaped, but it hurt his eyes to stare at it, and when he did, it was like a force was boring into his skull.

He felt strange.

The blackout was over, but it felt like something had been knocked loose within him, and now he found himself in a place that felt...off.

Unsettling.

The whole place was full of unusually bright light, a place of shimmering beauty, lovely plants full of delicious looking fruit, and wealth so tremendous that he felt certain that whoever lived there had more money than...

He mentally revised that thought.

The thrones.

The people in robes.

The giant human encapsulating the ultimate ideal in human beauty.

They looked very stern.

Very serious.

They didn't speak, like statues, almost, but their eyes glowed, their gaze piercing him to the very core.

Especially the little Arabic looking guy with the long flowing hair.

Dark skinned. Long hair. Robe.

Jesus, he thought.

He wasn't swearing, he just felt certain that was he was looking at.

The man stared at him with his eyes blasting him with brilliant photons, not saying a word.

"Hello?" he stammered.

Was this real, or was it just a hallucination brought on by the fungal infection in his brain?

"Hello?"

No reply.

"Where am I?"

Jesus said nothing.

"This is heaven, isn't it? Am I dead?" He paused. "I'm dead, aren't I?"

Jesus only returned a stoic silence.

"I...something happened to my brain when that fungus blasted me in the face. It killed me, didn't it?"

Silence.

"I always believed in you, you know?"

Jesus didn't seem to react.

"Okay, well, not always. But I do now!"

The brown man only stood like a statue, glaring at him. It felt like he were staring into his soul.

"C'mon! What am I doing here?"

Without a word, Jesus raised a hand, and Brian felt something like an invisible ocean wave blowing him backwards.

"No!" he screamed. "Please don't send me to hell! No! Please God, no!"

He winced at the irony of saying this to God Himself, but he couldn't help it.

He flew further backwards, falling into darkness.


	30. Chapter 31: Table For One

I waited around in the cafeteria for about five minutes without seeing Ibira anywhere. Figuring she had a different break schedule, I hurried up and got a plate, sitting down at a table by myself. I thought it did seem kind of early for dinner.

I finished my entire meal and still didn't see her.

"No green friend tonight?" Osmifa asked me as I returned my empty plate.

I shrugged. "She probably goes on break after me."

She smiled. "Well, if you ever get lonely and want someone to sit with you, just ask me."

I didn't relish the thought of being mind raped again, but out of politeness, I said, "Thanks. I'll do that."

I checked my watch and saw I had just enough time to visit Dino. "Do you, by any chance, know where Sigma's office is?"

She gave me the room number and directions. "Going to see your little pet?"

I nodded, hoping she didn't mean Sigma.

Since I had become more familiar with the building, I quickly found the room, a small office with a desk, a computer, swivel chairs, and a large flat screen monitor displaying a live game of Viva Piňata.

I didn't see my pet.

Sigma sat in a chair facing the monitor, dressed in a gold blouse, tied at the midriff, and a pair of tiny gold boy shorts. I could see now that her entire body was covered in fur, and the patterning rather resembled that of a skunk.

Her hands clutched an X-Box 360 controller. She was so absorbed in the game that she didn't notice me come in.

"I'm pretty sure that's against dress code," I joked.

Her tail wagged playfully as she ran a hand up the side of her shiny shorts. "Are you going to write me up?"

I blushed and shook my head. "Where's Dino?"

"They're doing a test on him in the med lab," she said with a frown and a roll of her eyes. "Want to play a game? If you want we can do side by side and see who can breed the most Bunnycombs..."

"No thanks," I mumbled nervously.

Her tail drooped behind her chair, its feathers poofing out like the back end of a large bird. "You really love her, don't you?"

"I...yeah."

She laughed. "Don't worry. I won't do anything to make her upset."

I smiled. "Thanks. I better go check on the little guy, though."

She nodded. "I think he's okay."

As I was stepping out the door, she said, "Could you ask them if they're done with my non-360 X-Box controller?"

"Controller?" I frowned. "What are they doing with that?"

"Dunno," she shrugged. "By the way, that uniform looks really good on you."

I blushed. "Thanks."

I hurried off down the hallway.


	31. Chapter 32: Changes

The pretty place with the scary robed people was gone. In its place, he saw the weird DayGlo foliage he'd grown accustomed to seeing.

He tried sitting up, but his body seemed strangely heavy.

When he flexed a muscle, it felt...wrong, and it felt more and more wrong the more he flexed it.

An arm came up in his field of vision, but it seemed to be the wrong color.

Soon, he saw two blue arms working in tandem, and a crazy wave of pins and needles sensations rushed through his body. He groaned, but it came out as an otherworldly sound he couldn't recognize as the product of his own mouth.

He eventually found a way to sit up, then to stand.

He discovered his hands had only four fingers, his toes cloven hooves.

Hearing running water, and being extremely thirsty, he staggered through a wall of plant life, brushing away a yellow-purple spider and something with squirming leaves, searching for the source of the noise.

He found a river a few yards down, feeding from a waterfall with strange pig faces carved on it, reminding him of something...Mount Pigmore?

That wasn't the right name, but it amused him.

Snort, snort.

He seemed to be making that noise a lot.

No matter.

Checking to see that nothing dangerous was nearby, he knelt by the stream and cupped a handful to his mouth.

When that didn't do it, he shoved his snoot into the water.

Snoot?

He stared at the reflection for a moment, wondering if he had stumbled upon a secret Na'vi camp.

The thing mirrored his movements, as if playing a game with him.

Wanting to call this stranger out on it, he pursed his lips and made silly faces, sticking out his tongue.

The stranger mirrored his movements perfectly.

That was when he pieced all the clues together.

The blue arm.

The snorting.

The face.

His face.

He patted around the long snout, tugged on the long fat ears on the sides of his head, then ran a hand over the pointy ridge of coarse hair running over his head like a Mohawk.

He screamed.


	32. Chapter 33: Search Party

"Brian!"

In the moonlit evening, out amidst the glowing neon foliage of planet Pandora, two figures wandered through the bush, calling out for their fellow employee.

"Brian!" The old man in the floral shirt stopped shouting, staring into a thicket of DaVinci inspired spiral flowers. He tapped the shoulder of his lanky comrade. "Did you hear something?"

"You know, I think I did," the guy with the glasses muttered. "It sounded like a pig."

"Wonder what it's doing out there."

Sam shrugged. "They're probably just having sex."

Harry laughed. "You're probably right. It reminds me of the cats I used to have..."


	33. Chapter 34: Chop Shop

When I at last found Dino, the creature had a device dangling from the side of his head, and he was moving in a robotic fashion.

Nobdar stood nearby, his dreadlocks plugged into a little black box, frowning at readouts on a computer.

I saw Victor with kicked up in an office chair nearby, pushing the right thumbstick on an X-Box controller.

The Ikran moved as if in response.

I stared at a computer monitor, watching as an eyelid blinked on the view of the lab, then opened wide, creating an infinity of views of the lab as it stared at the monitor.

"What is this?" I asked the blue guy.

"As you can see, my queue is connected to a device which I can use to interface with your primitive computers. I've taken the liberty of affixing a version of this device to...`Dino' so it can serve as a sort of spy drone."

He gestured to the computer. "This is where you can see readouts relating to its sensory data and vitals."

I stared at the EKG system. The pulse looked strange. Full of spiking. "Is his heartbeat supposed to be that erratic?"

Nobdar nodded. "Completely normal."

The Ikran bonked its nose against the glass.

I frowned at the midget. "Don't do that!"

"Sorry," he laughed as he pushed more buttons. "Check this out!"

The Ikran twisted back and forth, seeming to be doing an impression of that dance everyone does in animated Peanuts cartoons.

"_Now you're playing with power!_"

"That's cruel!" I said.

"Not really," the blue man replied. "I used a similar device to interface with the medical systems to increase efficiency. It's basically a mechanical voice giving him suggestions on what to do. I've tried it myself. It's a little annoying, but it's not necessarily cruel."

I twisted my lip skeptically. "I'll take your word on that."

"Nobdar says these things are basically machines anyway," Victor muttered. "That's why they have plugs attached to them. They eat and shit and everything, but they're kind of like androids."

The blue guy nodded. "Organic circuitry. I could probably program Dino's brain to play Tetris, but only he would be able to enjoy it."

I stared into my pet's eyes. "How about chess? We could see how well he does against...the best guy in the building."

Victor shrugged. "Maybe when we're not busy."

I furrowed my brow in puzzlement. "So he's an android. A machine. Is everything in this place a machine?"

"I don't know. The natives believe everything in nature is connected to the goddess Etowah, but one could also argue for the chance evolution of silicone based lifeforms with machine-like components."

Personally, I was wondering if the Almighty was using the planet for testing prototypes.

Victor made Dino squawk at me. "Or maybe there's an Ikran chop shop nearby, and if we can just find it, we can get ourselves some new drones and clear this place out so we can go back home."

Nobdar took a deep breath. "I reworked the original program we recovered from those hard drives you brought back and was able to find a way to simulate the mind bond between Ikran and rider with this old X-Box hard drive Sigma had. I reworked the device to add some incentives, like planting thoughts that it's doing a good job when you press a certain button, and saying `bad boy' when you press others.

"Sadly, I had to take the control away from Victor a few times and bond with it myself before it would allow us to control it again.

"I also added a microphone and camera so we can give it extra incentives as we see where it's going."

"Incentives?" I asked. "How is a microphone and incentive?"

"You can talk to it. Give it reassuring words. Of course, you don't need them here because you're right here. Once outside, though, all it will have are your words bouncing off a satellite."

"What if it goes into a cave?"

Nobdar shrugged. "We can only hope it will miss dad and mom enough to come back out."

"Mom?" I stammered in bafflement and dread.

"Sigma. Dino's taken a liking to her. Surely you've noticed?"

I swallowed hard. I was uncomfortable with what that idea implied.

But again, it was only for the purposes of controlling Dino. No one said we were required to make Bunnycombs together.

"Uh, yeah," I said. "She is rather...good at that."

Victor snickered. "He's not into girls that only have two arms."

"Oh," Nobdar said, not even raising an eyebrow. "Well, at any rate, if you two pet parents can put aside your differences, we can use the microphone feature to coach the Ikran out of difficult situations."

"Sounds good," I stammered as I petted Dino.

The creature licked me in the face, then tried to get his tongue in my mouth again.

"Bleah!" I backed away.

"Want me to push the Bad Button?"

"Uh..." I stammered. "I guess."

Victor pushed the red button and Dino lowered his head in shame.

He looked so pathetic and sad that it almost broke my heart. "Awww!" I cried. "It's okay!" And I petted the Ikran in the head in hopes of making it feel better.

With caution, Dino licked me again, but seemed to understand his boundaries when I backed away from another kissing attempt.

"How's Brian been holding up?" I asked.

Victor sighed. "I don't know. He ran out. He was in such a hurry that he knocked a bunch of people over and set off an alarm. We tried to sedate him, but it didn't work, and he escaped."

"One of the cooks saw him before he left," said the blue guy. "He wasn't in his right mind. They saw him walk right behind the counter and shove handfuls of food into his face like some sort of animal."

The midget nodded. "It was definitely weird. Right now, Snaker, Steve and the others are out looking for him, but in the meantime, we're hoping your friend can fly over the area and find him."


	34. Chapter 35: Waking Nightmare

Instead of a reflection, he was staring at a Na'vi's face.

No. Wait. That was _his_ reflection.

Brian slapped and clawed at his face several times, but the nightmare wouldn't end.

And I thought I was ugly before, he mused bitterly.

Was this what hell was really like? Being forced into a hideous mutant body and live out the rest of your existence in such a manner?

Am I dreaming? he wondered. Is this some kind of delirium?

This has to be hell, he thought. I was up in heaven, with God, presumably, and now I'm here. Evidently that's where you go.

Or maybe this is where you go when you die on an alien planet.

Was this because I didn't believe, or is this some kind of ironic punishment for killing all those Na'vi?

Someone please wake me.

He picked up a jagged rock, stabbing himself in the arm.

It hurt like hell.

He screamed, but nothing happened.

He was still blue. Still had hooves, and a slumped spinal column.

Seeing that he had no solutions to the problem, he gave it up, lumbering away from his blue reflection in search of food.


	35. Chapter 36: Launch

I looked at my watch in dismay. "Shit! Dennis is going to chew me out for being late again!"

"Relax," said Victor. "We're taking you off call duty tonight to search for Brian."

"How long do you think this will take?"

He shrugged. "Tell you what. Take the little bugger outside, and I'll take him for a test drive and see if we can find Brian."

And so I carried him outside with all that equipment on his head, and a microphone tucked in the chest area of my uniform.

At first, he tried to pull the stuff off, but then he suddenly looked ashamed, like someone had pressed the Bad Button.

I petted him on the head to console him.

The Ikran hopped back and forth across the ground, squawking and generally looking like it didn't know what to do with itself.

I just sat down and watched it bounce around, hoping Victor could get control of the thing before it fried its brain, destroyed the equipment, or both.

"So that's our new drone," I heard a voice call from behind a clump of bushes that looked like aquatic sponges.

A green figure stepped into view, stroking the Ikran on his head.

"That's our drone," I confirmed.

She sat down next to me, watching as my pet flitted above our heads, perching on the edge of the building's flat roof.

The little reptilian creature flapped off in the air, winging its way back and forth above the treetops.

"You're doing a great job!" I said into the microphone.

My green companion placed a hand on my bare knee. "You have a good heart."

I laughed and shook my head. "I'm flattered, but I really don't think I'm that good."

"I mean it. You care for your coworkers, even ones that are jerks, you care for nature...you practice what you preach."

I rolled my eyes.

"You would make a good Qozisa."

Green skin, four arms, tusks. As much as I loved the way she looked, it wasn't anything I particularly wanted for myself. It would be like a breast loving man growing a pair of his own.

Ibira doesn't have breasts to speak of, but you get my point.

I guessed she meant that I was brave, wise and caring, just like her people. I was flattered.

"You...really think so."

She put two arms around me, leaning on my shoulder. "I know so."

I heard a voice crackling on the radio. "Could you guys stop making out and come down here? I need you to coach our little dinosaur back onto the beaten path!"

Blushing, we laughed at each other and got up.


	36. Chapter 37: Chia Head

He pushed aside bushes of swelling anemone things, wincing as their flowery bulbs snapped back inside their tube shaped interiors.

Why had he been sent here?

Was this hell?

If so, why did hell look like the place he left?

From all he'd heard about in Sunday school, once the sinner dies without Jesus, when he faces those pearly gates, that was it.

Perhaps, he thought. Perhaps it was because he wasn't on earth.

Maybe that's why he got a second chance that nobody else got.

Admittedly, this planet wasn't that far off from hell, but it could have been worse.

He stared at his blue claw-like hands. Or was it worse?

There certainly weren't any lakes of fire, though there were rumors about some volcanic activity in the southern areas.

He frowned.

Well, for whatever reason, God had put him there, and he was going to resume his life as usual.

And the first order of business was food.

Brian searched through the foliage carefully, but wasn't able to find anything he'd classify as food. Of course, he knew next to nothing about wilderness survival, even if it had an application on a planet containing blinking jungle vines and spore blowing plants.

His first choice, Godfather's Pizza, wasn't an option, so he hoped for the second best option, the office cafeteria, or something equivalent of such.

Instead of finding either, he found fields of that disgusting plant matter he'd been stupidly shoveling into his mouth earlier.

Cringing with disgust, he pushed his way through them, and everything started to look oddly familiar.

He stepped into a clearing, and he saw the tree.

A tree the very same shape and size as the one he'd rested his tired head against.

Someone was there!

When he first saw the man, he instinctively flinched and dove for the cover of the horrible plants.

But then he saw he wasn't moving.

In fact, he seemed to be asleep.

Oink, oink.

He laughed at himself for being silly, jumping at the sight of a regular human being, but then he started noticing unsettling details.

The slacks.

The shirt.

The tie.

Those were his.

He remembered now.

He remembered that, during the blackout, he had somehow had enough mental capacity to put them on, and even tie his tie poorly, so nobody blinked when he stumbled out the security door.

But why were they on this man? Why wasn't he wearing these articles?

He stared at the gold wristwatch, then he began to pick up more unsettling details.

The brown birthmark on his left arm.

The scar from the broken coffee table on his right hand.

The stubble.

The shaving cut on the neck.

He soon wished he hadn't looked any further.

The first thing that shocked him beyond rational thought was the face.

The same face he'd looked at in the mirror every day.

As if that wasn't bad enough, there was something growing out of the sleeper's head.

A shaft of pale white fungus had burst out through the victim's skull, a phallic banana shaped growth digging roots into the tree he'd rested his head against so many days ago.

For some odd reason, he started remembering the death scene from The Fountain, the part where a tree and leaves burst from a conquistador's chest in an artsy poetic fashion.

Unlike the movie, this was neither beautiful nor artistic.

This was nothing but soulless sporozoa raping his skull cavity.

His stomach churned as he continued to stare at the body, shuddering as he saw the damage done to it.

His skull had been hollowed out and half crushed like a Jack-O-Lantern left out after Halloween.

Throbbing plant tendrils as thick as gardener snakes pulsated as they sucked out the remaining substances inside his head, like a straw draining the bottom of a glass of Coke.

Before he knew what was happening, he puked, spraying yellow bile all over a nearby tree root.

* * *

><p>Author's note: I've never heard about the video game about the fungus epidemic before someone mentioned it in a comment here. The idea actually came from a documentary I saw about zombie ants.<p>

Although posted to in 2014, DOGOS was written on paper only a few short months after Avatar first came out, so having someone claim that I wrote this scene after playing The Last of Us makes no sense. Chapters 1 through 71 were written in shorthand in 2010. I just didn't feel like typing them up until now.


	37. Chapter 38: Remote Control

On the computer, a canopy of glowing jungle leaves turned sideways as a beak tilted at an angle. A split screen in the bottom corner displayed a little pterodactyl shaped object moving across a topographic contour map.

I sat in an office chair in front of it, clicking buttons on the X-Box controller.

"You're doing great, Dino," I said.

My pet made an uncertain squawk in response.

"So yellow accelerates, the left thumbstick turns his head, and the right steers him."

"Yeah," the midget said. "You can also use the crossbar to steer, but that's pretty much superfluous."

Ibira laughed. "Wow. That's the biggest word I've heard coming out of your mouth!"

"I guess you guys already know how this works," Victor grumped, hopping down from his chair. "So I'll go now."

"I'm sorry," I pleaded. "Please go on. What do the triggers do?"

Victor crossed his arms. "Well, that's kind of funny. One of them makes him piss on things. The other makes him bite. He gets kind of confused sometimes and he'll just peck at something or whine or lick things when you do that. You already know what the red buttons does, and the other top ones. Basically just they coach him so he doesn't unplug...the thing."

"What's the top left and right buttons do?"

"They don't do anything, as far as I can tell."

I pushed a yellow button.

For a moment, Dino seemed out of control, refusing to follow my button presses. He squawked angrily.

"Great. I think I just pissed him off."

"No," said Victor. "That's the other button."

The blue guy plugged his hair into the USB port and Dino calmed down.

I stared at him. "What did you just do?"

Nobdar looked bored, like he'd done this sort of thing lots of times. "I contacted him via Wi-Fi. I had to explain to him that you didn't know what you were doing, but we're trying to find our friend. Dino said that you need to steer carefully or he'll barf. Also, he only flies at one speed, so don't keep tapping the button."

I laughed. "That's good to know."

"Also, don't touch that top left button unless you want some of his tongue again. Your messing with his genitals."

I shuddered. "Gross!"

"You know you like it," Victor teased.

The blue guy smirked. "I sent him a memory of Brian, and he seems to recognize him, so I think we should let go of the controls for awhile and let him work."

With a shrug, I set the controller aside.


	38. Chapter 39: Acceptance

Brian was running blindly, not even thinking about where he was going.

He didn't want to be anywhere near that thing that had burst his head open.

It was bad enough that he had to touch the body, his body, to grab his personal effects.

He held his breath while doing this, for fear of inhaling the stuff again, then made a brush out of leaves to clean each article off, and now he ran to get away from the horror.

Hearing the sounds of water, he found his way back to the river, washing each article carefully to clear them of contaminants, the ID badge, the keys, and the necktie to hopefully remind others of his identity.

The phone and radio proved to be unique challenges, because water was not their friend.

Not wanting to take risks, he washed the items anyway, and he discovered that warnings not to immerse them in water were essentially correct. He ended up throwing them aside.

"So I'm dead," he snorted. "I'm dead from brain fungus, but there's an afterlife and I'm a Na'vi.

He sat down on a patch of squirming grass, rocking back and forth as he covered his head with his hands.

Why am I still alive? he thought. What is my purpose? Why am I still here?

He rubbed his face, moaning in grief.


	39. Chapter 40: Pigmore

The Ikran on the monitor swooped down over a river feeding from a waterfall in the middle of a seemingly impenetrable jungle growth.

As it circled around a dense cluster of trees, Victor stabbed a finger at one of the five monitors they had set up to get multiple camera views. "What's that?"

"What's what?" I stammered.

"Turn the bird around. I saw something."

"It's an Ikran," said Ibira.

"Let's not argue semantics. Turn it around."

She chuckled, but didn't comment.

With a shrug, I gave Dino a turn, and a cliff with carved stone faces came into view.

Giant dreadlocked pig heads, looming over the forest.

"What the hell is that? Mount Pigmore?"

A few moments later, I saw arrows and spears flying at the screen.

"The fuck?" said Victor. "Aren't those guys supposed to be tree huggers?"

"Apparently they have sharp eyes," Ibira remarked.

A few moments later, a cloud of leathery wings filled the air.

I heard a chorus of confused and angry squawking, then something darkened the monitor, and all the screens displayed blue error screens.

The blue guy's hands flew across a keyboard as he plugged a USB device into his hair.

"What happened!" Victor shouted. "Did someone step on a cable?"

Nobdar shook his head. "We lost the signal." He commenced a flurry of button pushing.

"Well, get it back!"

"It's not that simple," he growled. "I ran a diagnostic. The device communication error is happening outside. Whatever the error is, it's happening on the Ikran itself."

Ibira snorted. "I believe it is called the `Na'vi Destroying the Equipment Error.'"

I saw a flash of something hitting water, then the error screen came up again.

"It's gone. The positioning satellite isn't even registering a location."

"Oh well," Victor sighed. "I guess we'll have to continue our search the old fashioned way."


	40. Chapter 41: Contact

Brian thought about what happened, since he suddenly had a lot of time to think, and he contemplated a few things in particular.

One, if he really saw what he saw, and it wasn't some strange brain disturbance, the afterlife existed, God existed, and Jesus existed. He didn't get enough time to find out much more than that, except that God is mostly the strong but silent type.

It couldn't be a mere hallucination, he thought. Everything is too consistent. I've done drugs before. I know what they're like.

If he wanted evidence, it was all there. Sight, sound, touch, taste, smell. If he had a test tube, he could easily prove the reality of the situation. The reality of being a lumbering blue mutant.

And if that part was real, who was to say the method he'd arrived in this body wasn't real?

Strong but silent, he thought. At least he didn't throw me into hell.

He stared at his hands.

Well, not the garden variety hell, at any rate.

I'm not burning in torment. In fact, this is somewhat comfortable.

He heard a snap, then a blue figure stepped out of the foliage.

When the creature saw him, it jumped a little, but then quickly calmed down enough to ask," Who are you?"

Brian shrugged. "I don't know. I have died."

The stranger chuckled. "You seem alive to me."

Brian held up his name badge. "This used to be me. I don't know what happened. My head exploded."

Not understanding, the Na'vi smacked the badge out of his hand. A second later, it whipped out a spear, jabbing him with it. "Move!"

And then he found himself being shoved along through a mile of alien wilderness.


	41. Chapter 42: Negative

We wandered the jungle for hours in search of our lost comrade. The sun sunk below the horizon and everything glowed like decorations in a skating rink.

I had changed out of my dress, but I could still feel the jungle mites nipping at my ankles.

"Find anything yet?" I said into my radio.

"That's a negative, ghost rider," I heard Sam reply.

"Tell me something," said the four armed figure next to me. "Why does Sam constantly make comments about a ghost rider? Does it have anything to do with comic books?"

"I think it's from a commercial," I shrugged.

"Guys, let's wrap it up," I heard Victor call through the radio. "It's getting too dark. The porcupine doggies will probably be out soon, and they're damn hard to see until they're chewing on your leg."

I shot Ibira a confused look.

"They're not as cute as he makes it sound."

"Roger that," said Sam's voice. "Do me a favor and rub yourself with steak sauce so I can get a head start."

"I'll do you one better. I'll uncork a bottle of barbecue sauce and throw it on you as I'm running by."

"You? With those short stubby legs?"

"I'll be sure to kick you in the crotch with one if you get in my way."

"Go ahead." Sam laughed. "I seriously doubt it would reach."

"In a few minutes, you're going to find out just how high my boots can reach. Over and out."

Ibira put the radio away. "Let's go."


	42. Chapter 43: Termite Terrace

Brian's captor led him through a long stretch of trees and undergrowth, then through the eyeholes in a giant dinosaur skull to cleared path framed with primitive wooden fencing. A path that graded downwards at a steep angle, leading directly into a valley where there lay a giant tree the size of four skyscrapers stuck together.

"Is this the tree of souls?" Brian oinked.

The Na'vi shrugged. "I do not know what you speak of. This is Saargat, the abode of the termite goddess Jaljicod."

Brian scrunched up his face. "Termites?"

"We bring her offerings of wood. In return she grants us sustenance, the termites that feed upon the wood goddess's pale flesh."

"There's more than one?"

"There are gods and goddesses for everything."

When he reached the bottom of the hill, an army of blue swine surrounded him, and the clearing filled with confused and angry snorts.

All around him he saw warriors decorated with necklaces of human looking ears and humanlike teeth, and grass huts bedecked with human femurs and skulls.

Halfway in to the encampment, he passed by a sort of totem pole, covered from top to bottom with ribbons and arcane symbols.

Seeing a glint, he discovered, to his horror, that the ribbons were actually lanyards of hundreds of shiny employee name badges, most likely belonging to the owners of the ears and skeletal remains.

He shuddered.


	43. Chapter 44: Ghost

Exhausted from their fruitless searching, the search party seated themselves in chairs in the cafeteria, next to a makeshift barrier of file cabinets intended to keep Sprint employees out of the other areas of the facility.

"We swept the area all around the building for at least a couple miles in every direction," said Ibira. "He was not thinking like a rational human being. We found his shoe prints, but the trails all went cold a few kilometers out.

"At one point, I thought I found a lead, but then it was like he turned into a ghost. His fevered shuffling footsteps just vanished. It's almost like he doubled back on the paths he made while on idle walks."

"Right," I agreed. "They start out crazy looking, and all of a sudden they're all casual and orderly, like he's golfing."

Ibira sighed, frowning at the table. "It's like the jungle swallowed him up."

"Hey," said Sam. "Wasn't that a line from Predator?"

She gave him a blank stare. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"So much for our Indian tracker," Victor muttered.

"Your little technological experiment didn't work so hot, either," Ibira grumbled.

"My experiment is in the bottom of a river somewhere. What's your excuse?"

Ibira glared at him. "When Iss wants someone or something gone, no mortal power can prevent her."


	44. Chapter 45: Trudy

Somehow, he had ended up shackled to a wall inside a prison cell.

It had been a confusing blur of activity.

They had said he came from an enemy tribe allied with the humans.

They said an outsider should not be privy to the secrets of the Omnowaklaya, and they tied his tie around his neck. In a knot, to prove as a sign he was an enemy.

They also put his watch on, which turned out to be quite bad for his circulation.

Then he got thrown into a primitive cell with a metal gate set in the side of a mountain.

His surprise at them being capable with iron tools soon became replaced with the shock of having his legs chained to the stone wall and the gate slamming closed on him.

He just slumped on the floor, staring at his captors until they got bored of each other and stopped looking.

He'd said everything that could be said in this situation, after all.

As he found himself nodding off, a blue pig with feminine features knelt by the cage, shoving a bowl of water through the slot.

He thanked her, and asked for her name.

Trutru.

He asked if he could call her Trudy, and it somehow flattered her.

Then she asked him what his story was.

Once he'd told her, she stuck her hair through the bars of the cell, gesturing for him to plug his hair into hers.

"Wow!" he snorted. "I just barely met you and you already want hair sex?"

She shrugged and said she could do that too if he wanted, and that he was an attractive boar.

Shocked, he did what she asked, and fumbled around with his hair thing, trying to stick it in the way he figured it would go.

It seemed to do exactly what he thought it would. Pleasurable sensations radiated from his crotch as sexual images entered his consciousness.

With a shuddering breath, she snorted something about not reversing the polarity, at least not yet, and she guided him in how to do it right.

When their hair stalks connected, it felt like fingers in his mind, flipping open whatever treasure boxes it could open.

She found the memories of recent events quite quickly, tracing her way back to the first encounter with Tru Snort Snort. Brian mentally nicknamed the pig Tissy Fit, but she didn't get the joke.

And then he felt her chilling with fright as she opened his memories of his death.

She unplugged her hair, staggering back with absolute horror, snorting all sorts of confused and vaguely religious things.

The guards, in superstitious fear, hopped to their feet and ran off, presumably to report whatever it was.

"You're...human!" Trudy snorted. "Just like me!"

"Really?" He stared at her in disbelief. "You're kidding me."

She shook her head. "I must get you out of here. The elders will never understand."

He stepped toward the gate. "Let's go."

"Wait," she said. "Before we leave, I must search your heart deeper."

With a shrug, he let her do so, and she was opening all sorts of containers.

The memories of the call center.

The first time he had sex. Trudy laughed at that one.

The death of his grandmother.

Getting a speeding ticket and narrowly avoiding a DUI charge.

As she pulled out his memory of managing a Sonic restaurant, he opened a wicker basket of her pleasuring herself with her hair braid and being caught by her mother, then a memory of a giant tree collapsing.

Being a two way channel, he couldn't ignore her continued digging into his brain, even while digging in hers.

Oh why does she have to pull out that one, he thought. I hated that job. I could never do anything right. The boss pulling him aside for a performance review, telling him he isn't cut out for this line of work. Walking him out the door.

He opened another wicker basket. What's this? A little hunting expedition.

Let me show you what happens when you reverse the polarity, she thought inside his mind, and then the mental connection was broken.

What followed was something else entirely, a mad pleasurable climb through a staircase of something he didn't quite understand, but enjoyed immensely.

Then something between his legs started splurting out orange fluid.

Sorry, she thought. I wasn't very careful.

I don't give a shit, Brian thought inside her brain. You were terrific!

She laughed. I want you to be the father of my piglets.

I'm not sure I'm ready for that level of commitment, he thought in reply.

It's too late. We're bonded.

The swollen fin below his waist started to shrivel.

I'm sorry. I lied about freeing you. But you'll make a great father.

I will, will I? Let's just see what the courts say. D'oh.

She giggled. We do not have "the divorce."

For a moment, he flashed an image of murder, but then decided that the fin thing had to be inside her for it to even work.

You're fun, she thought. You don't even understand how to have sex.

He sighed in relief.

That fluid is just...

Nice try. I know I have this stuff for a reason, and it's not for peeing.

What is evolution? she thought in response to unformed thoughts.

I don't know. I guess it's at least party wrong or I wouldn't be in this body.

Can I come in the cell to...

Like I said, I'm not ready for that level of commitment. Thanks for the cybersex.

She giggled. You are so strange. Computers...

You're not human, are you?

No, but you're not either.

True. You never were human, were you?

No.

I'm sorry I lied to you.

He sighed. Fine. Let's make a piglet.

But can we please do it at your place?

It turned out she was blind.

I don't see you, Jake Sully.

That part about him being handsome she had only said to flatter him.

It seemed that cripples took the dirty jobs like feeding and interrogating prisoners, and since nobody else would sleep with them, they did what they could do.

When Trudy announced her intentions to their leader, no one batted an eye. They even gave her a potion for them to drink, one which smelled and tasted of alcohol.

Putting two and two together, Brian made sure to drink very little, and let Trudy drink it to the very last dregs.

He gave her her first quasi-conjugal right, and then, as she was sleeping, he crept out of her hut.

Apparently he had mastered the art of mental deception, for he had hidden his entire scheme from Trudy's prying mind inside a coconut within the female's memory warehouse.

Either she had allowed him to go, or she was just stupid. He assumed it was the latter.

Professor X would be proud, he thought.

The tribe would later regret the placement of outcast tents on the perimeter without a guard or security measures in place.


	45. Chapter 46: Good Vibrations

I didn't get a kiss that night, but I dreamed about it.

I awoke to the sensation of warm liquid pouring all over my clothing.

I sat up straight, staring in disbelief at the one eyed face staring back at me.

"Dino!"

It licked me in the face, nipping playfully at my lips.

"He was outside making noise again," I heard Sam saying. "He looks fine, but apparently the equipment is gone."

And so I spent an hour washing my clothes.

I gave up trying to sleep, staggering off to breakfast.

The winged creature perched on my shoulder as I groggily set a tray on the buffet railing in the cafeteria.

Dino gobbled up a large portion of my alien meat. I scolded him, but Osmifa was nice enough to give me a replacement, and extra for my pet. I scooted on down to get coffee.

"I see your friend is back," I heard Ibira saying as she joined me at the table.

"Yeah." I dropped a bit of meat into Dino's mouth. "I wish I could do something about the breath, and the peeing."

"Have you tried rubbing its nose into it?"

I shrugged. "He seems quite comfortable lying in it."

"I'm not sure what to tell you then. Perhaps if you slept in an Itorwo, you wouldn't have so much to clean."

"You could pee on Dino," Sigma suggested as she set a tray down next to me.

I reddened. "I'm not going to pee on it!"

"It was just a suggestion," she laughed.

I took a bite of my food.

"Would you mind if we try to fit your Ikran with another device today?

"Sure," I said. "We still need to find Brian. I'd like to be able to go home sometime this century."

I glanced at my watch. Noting the time, I quickly put my tray and dishes away, hurrying to the call center.

The moment I stepped into the room, I saw skinhead marching up to me. "We're going to go over a few calls."

And so I found myself back in the viewing booth.

"Your stats haven't changed," Dennis said as he brought the numbers up in the air. "But that's okay. We're working on it. You understand the metrics just as well as I do. One thing that's hurting you is your frequent use of the supervisor button is the main reason. Your customers are being made to wait too long."

"But I didn't know what to do," I stammered. "I didn't know we were selling dresses and then there were questions and things I didn't know how to-

"Jason," the boss interrupted. "You know we're taking overflow from other companies."

"What else do I not know that I'm supposed to know?"

"Jason Jason Jason.." His tone was like that of a parent scolding a small child for getting an F on a test. "The knowledge is all in here." He pointed to his temple to add further insult. "All you need to do is use it. You need to be more confident. It makes the customer believe in you. There will be less need for you to get a supervisor."

Sure, I thought. And get fired for screwing up a customer's account instead. "What if I give them the wrong answer, even confidently?"

"You won't."

Bullshit, I thought. I sighed and shook my head. "The point is, I can't be confident if I don't understand what I'm supposed to do. I need help, and it takes awhile to-"

Dennis invaded my personal space, slapping a meaty hand on my shoulder. "Jason. I'm here for you. I'm always here for you. Instead of going through the intergalactic supervisor system, the next time you need a supervisor, just ask me. I promise you'll always have my undivided attention."

His voice took on the tone of a preacher about to break into an altar call. "All you have to do is ask. That's all you need to do."

I sighed.

Dennis activated a recording of me fumbling through his first shopping order call.

"For future reference, when it's customer service, there are inflection marks over some of the words to make it more upbeat. That's how you tell that it's not collections."

I sighed. "Okay. That's all I needed. I'll do better next time."

In response, Dennis placed his hand on my shoulder again, his eyes seeming to bore straight through my head like an angry bull. "Jason. You're going to get better. That's what I'm here for. To help you improve. I believe in all my heart that you will be the best employee in this company if you try hard enough. I'm making you my special project. All I ask from you is for your cooperation. A little cooperation. That's all. Can you do that for me?"

I shrugged. "Yeah."

He fast forwarded the recording to a bit where I was stammering. "You trip over your words,like you were unsure of yourself, even though you've handled calls like this numerous times." He skipped ahead to another part where I stuttered again.

"I...I have some Tourettes, okay? I can't help it. I wasn't nervous, I just couldn't make the right sounds."

I wasn't lying. It might have been a mild form of the disease, and it wasn't like I blurted curse words or anything, but I did have verbal tics that popped out of my mouth unbidden from time to time.

"Jason. I don't believe that for a second. You talked with customers just fine before then. But here you change all of a sudden."

He just called me a liar.

I sighed. Fine. Don't believe me.

"Just be more confident in what you're doing."

I frowned, nodding just to shut him up.

Dennis opened his mouth, and more bullshit washed over me in waves. I agreed with everything he said for about ten minutes as my self esteem got trampled in the dirt.

At last, he said, "That's all that's come to my attention so far. Other than that, you're doing good. You did some good payments, and you're moving through those answering services a little faster. Not as fast as I'd like, but faster. Hopefully your next calls will be that much better now that we've had this talk."

Sandwiching a compliment inside a mountain of complaints is not the best way to go about motivating employees, but it's not something you bring to the boss's attention. Especially when he's too thick to comprehend the idea of being wrong.

"Did you have any other questions or comments?"

I nodded. "This collar," I groaned, tugging it down. "It's so irritating. Every time someone calls, it's like I've got mosquitoes biting me in the neck. I understand about the microphone, but can you at least disable the vibration feature?"

"Jason," Dennis sighed. "it's set up that way to ensure that you give the client your complete and undivided attention. You can either wear it around your neck or put on a vibrating testicular ring."

I stared at him in horror. "Excuse me?"

He opened a desk drawer, offering me a plastic bag containing something that looked like a black watch band. "It goes around the base of your testicles. The device vibrates whenever there's a call coming in."

My whole face turned hot with embarrassment.

As I gawked at him, waiting for the punchline, he added, "It's unopened. Never been used."

My face got even redder. "Why can't I wear that around my wrist, or my ankle or something?"

"It's the wrong shape and size for that. Besides, it would make it too convenient to remove or shut off. We want you snapping to attention every time a call comes in. Plus wearing that device on your wrist could be construed as obscenity."

"Too late," I said. "It already is obscene."

Dennis shrugged. "Obscenity is defined by the society you inhabit."

"By that same token," I said. "I should be able to wear it on my wrist."

He shook his head in apparent frustration. "Jason Jason Jason. You are not on earth anymore. Haven't you figured that out? In order to continue doing business, our client requires that each and every employee complies with dressing and equipment codes."

I rolled my eyes. "So the client requires me to wear a vibrator around my dick. Right. I'd love to see the paperwork on that one!"

"I can show you a copy," Dennis said with complete seriousness. "But it's written in Gemrala. I'm not sure your translator comes with that language."

"Never mind," I sighed. "Leave the collar the way it is. I'm not wearing a vibrating cock ring."

He nodded. "I'm glad we have an understanding. Anything else?"

I shook my head no.

"You're free to leave."

At last I got to escape, returning to my cubicle.

After five answering machines and a payment, I had a supervisor call.

When I tried to summon Dennis, he said he was busy helping someone else, and the customer hung up before I could do anything to solve the problem.


	46. Chapter 47: Mylabone

His blue foot tripped over a pipe as he was sneaking away from the Na'vi camp.

Stifling a scream of pain and rubbing his smarting foot, he discovered the object to be a yellow metal pipe.

Hopeful that it would lead him to a base, he followed it through fields of bubbling alien milkweed stalks to a clearing full of cracked dirt where the pipe hit an elbow joint.

As he crept further along, he noticed something trailing him.

And then a spiny, hairy shape calmly stepped in his path, opening its mouth.

"What would you do if the people you knew..." it sang in an oddly familiar voice, complete with musical accompaniment coming out of giant flowers nearby.

Another Direwolf popped out of a bush, also distending its jaw.

"...Were the plastic that melted and the chromium too?"

And then they sang in unison:

"Who are the brain police?"

Direwolves did not just sing Mothers of Invention to me, he thought. I must be dreaming all this.

But then he saw a horse thing with eyestalks and a featureless face continuing the song through a set of gills on its neck.

The creatures seemed harmless enough, and he still thought he was dreaming, so he stepped past them, following the pipe across a stretch of dirt.

He tracked the pipe as it cut straight through a meadow of lollipop plants, over a ridge, then the ground gave way and he found himself falling down a cramped little tunnel in the dark, banging his elbow on a ladder on the way down.

After another minute of free fall, he hit something hard and unyielding, and everything went pitch black.

* * *

><p>After struggling through calls for a few more hours, I was at last allowed to take my lunch break.<p>

On the way out of the call room, he found a small child sized figure staring up at him.

"Damn I hate those outfits," Victor grumbled. "Kid, we need you to coach the little guy again. He's not cooperating."

Jason shook his head. "Sure. No problem. Am I going to get to eat lunch before I come back here?"

"Um, I'll have to clear it with your supervisor."

Dennis conveniently wasn't there to respond.

"Get some pants on and come down to the lab. Quick."

* * *

><p>Brian awoke on a concrete floor, his body aching with agonizing pain.<p>

It was dark, but his eyes seemed unusually well adjusted to it, and he could see every crack, crevice and feature of the industrial concrete corridor.

Staggering ahead, he reached a T-junction in a dimly lit corridor, feeling his way down one side until he began to see light.

He saw a rodent pop out of a crack in the wall, a rodent with nasty looking lion's teeth, no nose and floppy dog ears.

The thing scuttled out in front of his path, its eyes glowing bright red as it stood on its hind legs. Its mouth opened.

"You're probably wondering why I'm here, well so am I, so am I..."

Mothers of Invention again, he thought. Maybe Frank Zappa lives down here.

The rodent seemed to chuckle in response.

His foot slipped over the edge of something, and he found himself sliding ass backwards down a dark cylindrical slide that wound every which way for what seemed like miles, eventually stopping at a metal grating, which rushed up at him too fast for him to adequately prepare for.

He saw stars, then fell unconscious.

* * *

><p>When the bloody severed arm appeared on the monitor, everyone recoiled in shock.<p>

Dino had been flying around the area of "Mt. Oinksmore," as Victor called it, /for about ten minutes when he came across a pack of scavenging grass dogs with shreds of fabric in their mouths.

That was when we found the arm, severed at the elbow, gnawed off at one end like a macabre chew toy.

"That's not good," said Sam. "You think that's his?"

"That could be anyone's arm," said Victor.

"No. No it can't," said Ibira. "It's too fresh."

"What about those guys that died during our raid on Hell's gate?"

"No," said Sal. "No one's arm looks like that. I should know. I've stuck enough needles into it." She cried for a moment, then sniffed, stuffing away the emotion. "He has dainty hands. The shirt is the same color."

"So that's his arm."

She gave him a nod, then broke into tears. "I recognize the birthmark."

Victor swore and shook his head.

"He could still be alive," Sam muttered.

"Sam. He's not that bright! He would have bled out by now. And then there's all that torn fabric!"

Sal cried and ran out of the room.

"Well," Sam sighed. "At least we know what happened. What do we do now, chief?"

After a moment's thought, Victor replied, "I'm going to take a smoke break."


	47. Chapter 48: The Goddess

Note: Chapter 43 has been revised. The bit about lanyards will factor into a later part of the story.

* * *

><p>He awoke to rays of pulsating blue and white light blinking in his face.<p>

Groaning in pain, he pushed himself up into a sitting position, taking in his surroundings.

The place he'd landed in looked like a subterranean cathedral, composed of giant metal pipes full of flashing light.

Near one end, he saw an entire wall of computer monitors, each displaying what seemed like camera footage. Footage of animals on the planet surface.

Fascinated, he wandered over and stared at them for several minutes until he noticed the big computer in the middle, covered in thousands of keyboards and displays.

And then he noticed the man with the crazy afro.

He only saw the guy's back behind the chair, pulled up inside a compartment full of devices and strange interfaces.

"Pretty cool, huh?" said a voice.

"What?" Brian snorted.

"You can see everything from here. It's all wired up. The oinkers, the grass dogs, the Ikran, even you. Oh, and be careful with Monitor Double M 7. If you stare too long, your head will probably explode. Again."

Being a naturally curious person, he looked for the monitor.

"Don't. It's like pointing a camera at a camera and recording it. You'll see an infinity of Jimis, and then your head will go all screwy."

"Who are you?" Brian oinked.

"I'm the goddess. I would have made it god, but someone would accuse me of plagiarism."

Brian heard a low humming sound and the chair swung around, revealing a very plain looking little black man with glasses.

He stepped back, overwhelmed with the frightening sensation that he no longer knew which direction was up anymore. "What the fuck is this?"

"Haven't you put it all together yet? Everything on this planet has a plug. The natives plug themselves into trees at night. They plug into each other to communicate and make babies. You're familiar with the concept of electricity, right?"

"Uh...so the whole planet is really just a big computer?"

The man clapped his hands in delight. "Got it in one."

"What about the fungus?"

"Man, I am really sorry about that. It's...an experimental organism. I'm still working out all the kinks."

I'm going to make a few kinks in your neck, Brian thought. "Did you put me in this body?"

The man's placid expression suddenly turned dark. "No, that was the strange thing. As I was watching you die, a nearby Na'vi was foolishly sticking his braids into an electrical transformer cleverly disguised as a so-called Spirit Tree. The Na'vi flatlined the same time as you did. 043014, 22:51. Before this shit happened, I didn't even think mind-body transfers were possible. Your predecessors only killed their test subjects when they tried to do it. I thought it was going to be the same damn thing."

"So how is this even possible?"

The man sighed. "I don't know, but I have a theory."

"How is it that I can communicate with you like I were myself? I mean, my brain was impaled on a giant banana fungus."

"Well, for starters, I have an interpreter."

He typed something on a keyboard, and Trudy marched into the room, moving stiffly as a robot.

"You remember your little girlfriend, don't you?" the female snorted as the man's lips moved. She stood still and straight, like a department store mannequin.

Brian shuddered.

"She was handy," Trudy continued. "Being an outcast from her village, and jilted by her new bride, she seemed perfect for the job. Plus she's blind so she can't really run away."

Brian frowned at the little man. "Fine. Whatever. What's your theory?"

"You no doubt are familiar with the molecular properties of solids, are you not?" the man mouthed.

"Yeah?"

"And do you not know that there are spaces in between the particles of any given solid?"

"Yeah?" The man was trying his patience. He would have left if he actually had somewhere to go.

"And what, pray tell, is in those spaces?"

Brian shrugged. "Air?"

"Yes. And souls."

"So my countertop at home has a soul."

"No, but your flesh does. The human body is a puppet of meat. A vehicle of meat for the soul to operate. As a materialist, you may have thought that mental retardation or strokes indicated diminished consciousness, diminished personality, and everything that makes you you, but actually it's more like having a timber fall on a miner while working in a cave. The pieces are all there, but it's like your leg falling asleep after you sit on it too long."

"Wouldn't that mean that parts would atrophy?"

"Not any more than you've let parts of your brain atrophy. Seriously, what percentage of your brain do you actually use on a day to day basis? Retarded people have unraveled the secrets to the universe in their minds, but have no way to communicate them to anyone else. It is very sad. The supreme irony of life."

Brian just stared at him, trying to process the concept.

"Oh, and tell your friends, if you're still able, that I don't take kindly to people developing on my private property. It's unbalancing the whole ecosystem. And I'm going to keep sending pigs their way until they leave my place alone."

"We didn't know any intelligent life existed here," Brian stammered.

"And I intend to keep it that way. An industrial revolution will ruin everything. I'm getting quite skilled at removing industrialists from the gene pool."

Brian sighed, staring at a monitor displaying a view of the DOGOS facility.

"My advice: Take your wife and settle down somewhere. Start your own tribe. Maybe send a few messages to your company to leave me the fuck alone. I'll make the deal sweet for you. Did you know there's a type of maize on the other side of this rock that has berries that taste exactly like fried chicken? Tastes just like the Colonel. You work with me and get your guys gone, and I swear you'll be farming them with your little honeybun. I'll even restore her sight."

Brian swallowed hard. "You're not really sorry, are you?"

The little guy stared at him in puzzlement.

"You intentionally sprayed me in the face with that white shit, didn't you?"

The `goddess' sighed and nodded. "You had it coming. I saw you kill five of my guys in cold blood. They didn't do anything to you. They weren't doing anything but getting high.

"I was intending to slowly open Bessie up and dispense a little slow rot, maybe have your brain explode while you're home in your private condo, you know, wipe out your whole family, possibly everyone in your office, but your golf ball landed right next to my little weapon, so when you stuck your face over the mouth, I let you have it.

"If I knew it would result in this, I would have picked another plant and just given you heart failure or something."

Brian clenched his hands into fists.

"I wouldn't try anything if I were you. With one button press, I can make your life a living hell. That body is a rental. From me.

"One mouse click, and you'll live out your days with a severe case of diabetes, maybe kidney or liver failure, though you wouldn't live nearly as long. Liver does have a bit of irony to it, if you think about it."

Brian frowned.

"I could give you stroke, but you already gave that one a whirl. Maybe this time I'll go with emphysema."

Brian let his hands drop, stepping back.

"That's what I thought."

Sighing, he gazed at Trudy, who still hadn't moved from her original position.

"You want her back? She's yours."

Brian snorted, backing away to the entrance.

"Suit yourself."

As he backed up further, he heard the goddess say, "Oh, and FYI. Your friends know where your body is. Unless you want their office redecorated in mildew, I suggest you hide that corpse quick."

Brian paled.

"See? I'm not a total bastard."

"Which way is out?"

Trudy slowly pointed to a tunnel opposite the one he came in. "There's a ladder."

As Brian rushed through the opening, he heard a voice yelling after him.

"Get your people gone, and I promise no one else will get hurt!"

Quickly, he found a rusty old ladder, climbing up.

"You have my word! No one dies! You hear me!"

Yeah. I hear you, all right, Brian thought, his mind churning thoughts of revenge.


	48. Chapter 49: Biohazard

The elf crept back into the room, sniffing and wiping her eyes. Whenever she glanced at the monitors, she had to choke down a sob and look away.

Victor cleared his throat. "Sal, we're going to talk about something...unpleasant right now. I know you're not in the best emotional state right now, so I think we'd all feel better if you stepped out in the hallway for a few minutes while we go over a couple things."

She sniffed. "I'm not a baby, you know. I'm a doctor. If you're going to discuss burials, I want a say in it."

Victor sighed. "What's his information say? Did he want burial or cremation?"

"Cremation," she choked.

"Whoa! What the fuck?" Sam nearly knocked the monitor over as he pointed at the image on the screen.

I tilted my pet's head upwards, and a row of convulsing green bodies came into view. The spiny beasts all lay on their backs, tossing and turning in the dirt.

I stared at them in shock.

"What the hell's going on?"

I recoiled in shock as a canine head jerked violently sideways, vomiting huge amounts of white ooze.

"They're foaming at the mouth. Looks like rabies. "

One by one, the green dogs shook themselves and stood up, slowly padding towards the severed arm.

"Get him out of there," Victor cried. "I don't want a rabid Ikran."

Sal turned pale as a sheet, running from the room as fast as her legs could carry her.

"What about the arm?" I stammered.

He shook his head. "Leave it. It's probably got rabies bacteria all over it. We were going for a closed casket situation anyway."

"I thought he was going to be cremated," I said.

"What is left to cremate!"

Sam looked at me like I were stupid. "Have you ever seen an open casket cremation?"

* * *

><p>I promise! Brian thought. He can shove his promises up his ass. No two bit phony of a god or goddess is going to tell me what to do.<p>

If Oz the Great and Terrible ever steps away from his fucking computer, I'll kick his ass across the company lot so many times he'll think he's a football.

During his escape, Brian had stolen several employee lanyards and hidden them in a bush outside camp.

After his meeting with the goddess, he had slung them around his neck, but now, as he neared the vicinity of the toxic mushroom spores, he decided to hang them from a tree branch until he'd finished with what had to be done.

He saw the foaming Direwolves. He knew he had to do something with the bodies, especially his.

From watching movies, he knew enough about contagions to understand how things could spread, especially airborne ones. As distasteful as it was, he'd have to move the whole mess somehow.

The question was how to do it without killing everyone.

He couldn't dump it all in the river because fungus thrives in moisture. Even though it would wash some of it away, the particles would most likely find a niche and cause an outbreak downstream, possibly getting into the cafeteria food.

Sure, they irradiated everything, but why take that risk?

Yes, he had washed the spores off his tie and other items in that same river, but he figured that was a mistake. It was possible that sometime in the immediate future, there would be tiny Audrey Twos cropping up all along the shoreline.

Burying the mess was equally problematic. The stuff could leach into the water table, and animals like Direwolves might dig things up and spread it all around.

Which left the burning option.

He could move everything to a safe location and set it on fire, and the stuff should hopefully burn away as long as it doesn't reach water or get inhaled. He hoped he was immune enough from last time to carry out this plan, but then again, he wasn't too keen in spending his life with a blue snout, either, and he fire wouldn't last very much longer.

So the only question was location.

Hell's Gate would have been convenient, and would clear out any Na'vi on the site, but it would end the lives of everyone who came there.

The same went for the other call center, wherever it was.

He briefly considered introducing Smallpox 2 into the native population, but he decided something else deserved a greater portion of his ire.

Of course, he'd actually have to figure out a way to get a fire going.

Although there had been a rather nice funeral pyre at Hell's Gate, he doubted it would still have active embers in it.

Well, maybe there might be something if he moved quickly enough.

Besides the firestarter, he'd need enough fuel to build the fire back up and keep it going to burn whatever needed to be burnt.

Then he'd have to dump the toxins someplace where the deadly spores would not hurt himself or anyone else he cared about.

Ideas already solidifying in his head, he hurried back through the jungle, through miles of land that should have taken him hours to walk, had he not been a Na'vi.

He found the remains of his clothing and the seemingly rabid Direwolves a few minutes later. One of their number already lay dead on a raggedy piece of black polyester, a white fungal banana erupting from its skull.

Holding his breath, he grabbed its tail before realizing he should get the fire first.

He wiped his hands in the dirt, turning to run in the direction of the little blotch of industrial gray he spotted in between the foliage.

His puny human eyes had never noticed how close to the Hell's Gate facility he had been. Not like it would have mattered anyway.

Within minutes, he was at the square concrete structure, wrenching open a small door.

Careful to mind his head, due to the added height (and the initial bump to the head on the way in) he stooped over and shuffled his way in, searching the building for matches, cigarette lighters, and flammable liquids.

After a thorough search of the barracks, the kitchen, and several other rooms, he found a small kerosene stove on a table in one of the barracks, which made sparks and fire, and a considerable amount of cooking oils, chemicals and fats, neglected in previous searches.

Fashioning a crude torch out of a bayonet, paint thinner, and dusty army blankets, and arming himself with a large bottle of canola oil, he returned to the scene of his demise.

Setting the items aside in a safe place, he grabbed a stick and clubbed the first `rabid' dog conveniently chewing on his severed foot, coating its entire body with cooking oil.

Running across through the jungle with a torch in one hand, and a prickly canine corpse in the other, he looked like the world's most bizarre Olympian.

Back at the hole at the edge of the Na'vi encampment, he touched the torch to the carcass, dumping the burning doggie down the hole leading to Oz the Great.

A moment later, he heard a tremendous explosion, and an enormous column of flame blasted out of the hole with the force of a volcano, knocking him off his feet.

* * *

><p>Sam gawked at a monitor. "No shit. A fucking volcano! I thought seismic activity was nonexistent here!"<p>

"We're working with dated materials," Victor shrugged.

I munched part of an alien lunchmeat sandwich, staring at the screen. "Want me to get a closer look?"

* * *

><p>How convenient, Brian thought as he carried the second infected corpse and partially consumed body parts to the mouth of the tunnel. And here I was worrying about the fire going out.<p>

Sure enough, his second contribution to the pit of diseased material resulted in another blast of incredibly hot flame.

He would have taken care of the rest, but when he arrived at the hole the third time, he saw metal spheres flying out of pipes set in a dozen concrete structures hidden behind thick clusters of foliage.

Not willing to wait and see whether they were probes or grenades, he charged up to a cluster of them, swinging a Viperwolf corpse around like a baseball bat.

To his dismay, this resulted in alien canine blood and innards spraying everywhere, which thwarted his whole objective of ridding the site of contaminants.

He'd seen Hazmat suits in the base, but they didn't fit. He was basically screwed. So far he'd been careful not to breathe in around the bodies, but now he'd have to wash the stuff off somehow.

He knew precious little about how the disease actually worked. It might take awhile to gestate, and even if he used a bucket to wash it off, the bucket might touch the water and contaminate everything.

He threw the carcass aside in disgust, fumbling around for another blunt object to defend himself with before the other spheres came closer.

As was picking up a large rock, he noticed one of the spheres open up and a sort of gun popped out, firing a silver dart into his leg.

He screamed.


	49. Chapter 50: Sentinels

Gritting his teeth, Brian yanked the dart out of his leg.

He stared at it for a moment, wondering if it held poisons or tranquilizer.

Whatever it was, he decided, it didn't matter. He had to get out of there, even if he only fell over and died afterwards. If he didn't try, he'd never know.

As the sphere changed its attachments from its gun to a dangerous looking corkscrew, he raised a rock, hurling it in the direction of his attacker as fast as he could.

It missed, cracking on a nearby concrete box.

The flying things responded by raining down fire and a hail of tiny nails that stuck in his rough hide like splinters, refusing to come out without ripping flesh open.

His second attempt to destroy one of the things resulted in the rock chipping it at the corner, causing its flight to become erratic.

He tried again, nicking a second one with similar results.

Figuring he was dead anyway, swung the corpse again.

As it smashed it into one of the flying things, the earth trembled beneath him, and he saw something rise into the air on a brilliant white jet stream.

The machines took no notice, using his gap in attention to dart away and blast him with fire, giving him second degree burns.

Seeing he wasn't getting anywhere, and they only kept coming, he turned and fled, hoping to at least find a weapon at Hell's Gate.

* * *

><p>The blue guy frowned at the screen. "Radar systems are detecting an unidentified flying object in the vicinity of the eruption site."<p>

Victor sighed. "Nob, buddy, we have an entire database of alien crafts to compare things to. Are you sure it's unidentified?"

He nodded. "No database match."

"Where's it going?"

Nobdar frowned. "It's gone. I can't even bring up an image by rewinding the satellite imaging footage."

* * *

><p>The flying orbs chased him for a few minutes, lightly browning his back with blowtorches and peppering him with more needles than an acupuncturist.<p>

As he fled like a frightened animal, skin saturated with sweat, the whole forest seemed to resonate with loud, booming laughter, mocking him.

At first, he thought it was God Himself doing the mocking, but then he thought it over a minute and decided it was just the little man from the underground computer room, pissing him off.

"Let this be a lesson to you!" he heard the voice yelling. "You don't fuck with the goddess! Not now, not ever!"

This torment continued for another two miles before the flying spheroids suddenly veered off into the jungle, at last leaving him alone.

He stopped, gasping for breath as he gingerly pulled out the needles, one by one.

Hearing a whirring sound, he whirled about, but found it to only be an ugly sort of featherless bird with a prune body and the head of a snail.

The barbed needles hurt when they came out, but his hide was tough, so he would yank out a handful, until he couldn't bear the pain, then stagger a few yards, or a mile ahead, pulling out a few more, when he was ready again.

Soon, the Hell's Gate facility came within view.

Well, he thought as he pulled the last of the nails out of his body. I guess that's the end of that.

His only hope now was to incinerate the rest of his remains where they lay and pray that fire kills...whatever it is.

Returning to the base, he used his fuel supplies and the sparker from the portable stove to incinerate the remaining corpses, and the things that had consumed his. His newly discovered night vision goggles aided him locating the sick animals too ill to flee further than a few miles, though he wondered if one or two had eluded him during his time away.

Once finished, he took the remaining grease, and a large amount of foul smelling meat slime from the freezer, dumping it all over the pod thing that had originally sprayed him in the face.

He then, to his delight, discovered a chemical shower designed for removing radioactive and biological contaminants, and used it.

Only then did he allow himself to weep.

Sighing, he stepped out of the chemical bath, took a regular shower, then broke a chair as he tried to sit in it.

He crawled into a corner and sat there, thinking, for a long time.

At last he got up.

He would leave a message for his crew. Something to tell them that he was okay, or in a better place, at least.

So what if it were a half truth.

Walking outside, he picked up the nearest conceivable writing instrument, a rock, and carved "U GUYS R AWSUM" across the side of the building, the one that vehicles passed on their way in.

He found his new muscular physique naturally leant itself to such feats with great ease, like he were carving the letters, and words, through a big block of butter, rather than the stone solid brick it was.

Almost as an afterthought, he added the note, "LUV, BRIAN."

Still angry at the `goddess', he wrote nothing about his team needing to vacate the premises.

Before he could set down the rock, he lost control of his body.

Oh no, not again, he thought.

But his mind remained fully functional. It was his body, and his body only, that had ceased to respond.

All of a sudden, it felt like some sort of program had switched on in his brain, and he was writing letters.

His claw sped along hurriedly, scraping the shapes of the individual letters across the bricks.

They didn't make sense, but he felt he had to write them out very carefully or he'd explode, possibly in the exact same way he did before.

He didn't know why he wrote it. Maybe it was automatic writing, like the stuff that mediums and psychics did. But where did this all come from? A ghost? Unlikely, since there were no humans there to haunt.

It wasn't the Wiz's style, either. Even though he told Brian the body was "a rental", Afroman would much rather write "GO AWAY, ASSHOLES" than put up the lyrics to some 1940's golden oldie.

Of course, he wasn't sure why God would send such a message, either, except maybe the fact that the word "sun" was spelled with an O.

The message wasn't completely clear due to the absence of capitals. Actually, the whole thing was scrawled in uppercase, with the exception of a few odd letters he'd drawn like a preschooler. He'd actually reversed some of the letters.

He frowned, setting down the rock.

He suddenly noticed he wasn't alone.

He smelled the Na'vi coming a mile away. Rotten meat, spoiled vegetables, curdled milk.

The knot on the creature's head connected him to a recent memory, but he couldn't connect enough to figure out why he remembered...whatever it was.

More than likely, it was something told to him verbally, he figured. All he knew was, the guy smelled and he didn't want him anywhere near him.

When it stumbled closer, he backed into a tank with a hose attachment.

Let's give you a bath, he thought.

It was only when he heard the screams and smelled a peculiar odor did he he realize that this was that fuel tank they were planning to use for torching bodies.

The creature didn't seem to share his opinion that the smell had improved.

With a sound in between a giggle and a squeal of terror, Brian bolted, inadvertently knocking over an engine battery on his way to the guard booth.

He looked back just in time to see a blazing figure stumbling blindly into a gas tank.

* * *

><p>"The hell? What the fuck was that?" Sam cried as he stared at the screen.<p>

I frowned. "What was what?"

"I heard something. Turn the bird around."

The Ikran stopped in mid flight, whirling around in the air.

"I didn't hear anything," said Victor.

"_That's because you were talking!_ I definitely heard a thud."

A cloud of black smoke drifted into view.

"That looks like a petroleum fire!"

"You sure it's petroleum? The pigs know how to start fires."

"Oh no. I know a petroleum fire when I see one."

Victor frowned at the screen. "Fly in closer! Maybe there's something we can salvage!"

"Dino doesn't like it."

"Well make him like it, dammit."

I tried to coax Dino closer, but the Ikran only shook its head no.

"Allow me," said Nobdar. And he plugged his hair into the USB again.

"He says it's too hot and stinky."

Victor scowled. "I thought animals were supposed to like stinky smells."

I laughed. "Tell him to go around the stink. We want to see what happened."

And then Dino drifted lower.

"That's Hell's Gate!"

"Damn," Sam muttered. "I bet that was the tank of helicopter fuel. I was going to refine that shit!"

"I thought it was already refined."

"You know what I mean. There's a way to convert it to unleaded or diesel. I was going to research it so we could add some to our fuel reserve."

"So much for that."

"Yup." Sam shook his head.

The pterosaur squatted a few yards from the fried Na'vi corpse, eyes zooming in on the flaming limbs.

"So...did this guy roast himself, or was someone hungry for a Kahlua pig?"


	50. Chapter 51: Blue Horizon

To my great relief, I didn't have to do calls for the evening. Instead, I got to ride in the truck with the troops, gobbling down the remains of my dinner as we rolled into Hell's Gate to examine the damages.

Sam hit the brakes when he saw the graffiti.

"Someone doesn't know how to spell awesome."

"And who is someone?" said Victor. "That's what I want to know!"

"Well there _is_ a signature." Sam pointed to the line beneath the top one. "Of course, it's probably an alias. Who starts out their name with the number eight?"

"8HAR," Victor mused. "Maybe one of our marines survived, after all!"

"Look!" Sam eased on the gas, scooting down a bit further. "There's more writing!"

"Beyond the blue horizon," Victor muttered.

"...My life has only begun," Sam read. "Beyond the blue horizon is a rising _son_...Someone can't spell sun."

"Maybe they can spell, but they wanted to give someone a religious message."

"I don't get it," said Ibira.

"Son means Jesus," I said.

"Oh." She tapped her tusk in contemplation. "Clever."

"It's a song," said Sam. "People used to play it at my parents' retirement home. It's kind of like _You Are My Sunshine_."

"Did this place have any supervisors? Head staff? This _was_ a call center at one point..."

"I don't see how anyone could be here. Nobody there had Bazroks. Once the Na'vi smashed up their respirators, they were toast."

"What about US Bank?"

'I don't know. Maybe. What, you think someone got out and slowly went mad from the isolation?"

"To be honest, I don't know what to think."

We found another carving a little further down along the building.

"Again?" said Victor.

"One more time for emphasis?" I suggested.

"Those letter seem a bit..._tall_." said Sam. "I'm not sure any of our army guys can reach that high."

Victor shrugged. "Maybe he got up on a ladder or something."

"Someone sure seems obsessed with that song."

"Or something," I said. "Look!"

At the end of the wall, there stood a blue pig with a rock clutched in one claw.

"What are you trying to tell us!" I shouted.

The creature squealed loudly, pointing to a crazy tie around its neck.

That tie looked awfully familiar.

"I think it killed Brian," said Sam. "Maybe this is its act of penitence?"

"I do not trust it," said Ibira.

Victor pulled out a gun. "I say we kill it."

The pig dropped the rock, slumping its shoulders. It looked sad.

"Leave it alone," I said. "He looks harmless."

He put the gun away. "If he makes any sudden moves, he's dead."

We rolled onwards, down in front of the still open truck bay.

The truck lurched to a sudden stop next to the fuel tank and the barbecued pig carcass, pitching everyone forward in their seatbelts.

"What's going on?" I said.

Instead of responding, the two figures in the front seat drew their guns, leaping out of the vehicle.

"Remain where you are!" I heard Victor shouting to someone. "Come no closer or we will open fire!"

Beyond the dashboard, I could just barely make out a pink splattered blue figure running towards us with alarming speed.

"Stop! Turn around now or we will open fire!"

I heard the loud pop of a warning shot.

"What's going on?" I whispered to Ibira.

"It's a Na'vi."

I unbuckled my seatbelt, climbing up front to get a better look.

As I got into the driver's seat, I flinched at the sounds of gunfire, ducking down as I waited for the smoke to clear.

Nothing seemed to be hitting the truck, so I sat up, peering over the dash.

Through the windshield, I could see a cloud of floating blue fern things.

At first, I mistook them for harmless forest sprites, but then I heard a series of pops, and they were belching fire and little finishing nails into the hood, the windshield, and my allies outside.

I ducked back down, staring at my green partner in fright. "What do we do!"

She ducked behind the passenger seat, drawing her pistol. "We proceed with caution."

A dart buried itself in the seat headrest above me. I dived into the back.

"You should request a gun from the armory," she said.

"I don't know how to fire a gun."

Ibira sighed. "We must go to the gun range when this is over!" And she climbed out the door.

Not being an especially gutsy type, I did what I was told, creeping back up to the dash to see what transpired.

I saw flashes, fire, and smoke as the air filled with popping sounds.

When the air cleared again, I saw that my friends clutching wounds, the blue fairy things were dead, and the Na'vi had crawled backwards outside the gate.

All except the one with the tie.

Seeing that it was safe, I sat upright, watching as the creature raised its hands in surrender, slowly shuffling its feet as it stepped further and further back.

When the team came closer, it stopped, snapped its feet together, and gave us a distinctly human salute.

"That tie!" Ibira shouted. "Where did you get it!"

The pig snorted something unintelligible.

"Stay right there!" Victor called. "Do not move or we will shoot!"

The pig complied, and Victor marched up to meet it.

"Wait!" Ibira said. "This could be a trap!"

"He knows English!" Sam exclaimed with a grin.

Victor shook his head no.

San pointed back at the building. "Did you write the graffiti on that wall over there?"

The pig shrugged, then nodded.

"Are you an ugly pig?" said Victor.

He got a similar response.

"Dogs can look smart too."

Sam sighed.

"I guess you're right. But he seems nice enough."

"Maybe we can domesticate him," I suggested.

The thing let out several oinks in response, as if telling a joke, but then it looked depressed at not being understood.

"You already have a pet," Sam muttered.

Victor's eyes narrowed. "He'll probably just try to slit our throats in our sleep anyway."

The pig seemed to snort in disagreement.

"Still, maybe we could use him for recon," Sam suggested.

"That's what Dino's for."

Sam stepped closer to the creature. "Hey, big guy...what's that you got all over you?"

"It looks like blood," Ibira said.

When Victor reached out to the beast, presumably to taste it to make sure, it backed away.

The midget frowned at the stripy yellow-red bit of silk around its neck. "Wait a minute!"

He pulled out his gun, drawing back the hammer.

"Where'd you get that tie?" he growled.

The Na'vi only oinked.

"Answer me!" he yelled.

The pig responded with a fearful murmuring snort, backing away some more.

"Did you kill him?" Sam asked.

The Na'vi made a confused oink.

Victor brought the gun closer. "Our friend! Did you kill our friend!"

The pig its head violently.

Sam pulled out his shiny Desert Eagle. "Where's the body."

The pig let out a terrified squeal, fleeing for its life.

They could have easily killed it right where it stood, but I guess they wanted it alive for interrogation, at least on the unconscious level.

I watched as they fired at the thing as it ran clumsily into the brush.

Victor sighed, putting away his gun. "Hold your fire."

Everyone stopped, holstering their weapons.

"Damned blue picanninies," Victor muttered.

Hidden behind jungle foliage just a few yards from the base, the pig sighed and slumped its shoulders.


	51. Chapter 52: RO Request

We stared out into the jungle for a few minutes, trying to see where our friend with the tie had gone to, but we couldn't see much in the dark, even with the fires and the glowing plant life.

"Let's go back to base," Victor grunted.

"Wait," said Sam. "What if he can lead us to something?"

He shook his head. "Something could be a trap. Let's just head back and get ready for the funeral."

"Why not just have it here?" I asked.

Sam rolled his eyes, and I was given this `you are an idiot' look. "Everyone in the building knows him."

"I know, but-"

In a matter-of-fact tone, Sam continued. "This is a special circumstance, so we have free access to Interdenominational Open Time at the chapel."

My mouth dropped wide open. "You have a chapel?"

Sam shrugged. "You didn't know that?"

"No."

"What's your religion?"

"Uh..." I stammered. "Christian?"

"I think they're holding services every Thursday at nine o' clock. Right after the Buddhists."

"What!" I cried. "What kind of church is that? Unitarian?"

Sam rolled his eyes and shook his head. "It's not a church, stupid. It's the company chapel. Look, the whole thing is printed on booklets by the door. You submit a religious observance request in your scheduler. We only have one chapel on the premises. Abuse it and lose it. It's on company property, so if you believe in any god or that sort of thing, you got to play by their rules."

"Or pray in strange places," Ibira added.

"Yeah. Or pray in strange places."

"This place keeps getting worse," I muttered.

We got back in the truck.

We stopped again a few feet outside the fence.

"What now?" said Victor.

He pointed to a a row of crosses made with sticks, with name badges dangling from them. "Look!"

We all got out and looked.

Victor stared at one of the crosses.

"That's a U.S. Bank badge. Who put this here?"

"Obviously someone who thinks she's dead," said Ibira.

"I wouldn't surprise me if she was," said Sam. "I'm pretty sure that's not dirt in the bottom of that ID sleeve."

Victor frowned. "I bet it was Mr. Stripey tie."

* * *

><p>As he hid in the jungle foliage, waiting for his comrades to go away, he heard rustling in the underbrush.<p>

Whirling around, he suddenly noticed an elephantine beast looming statue still in front of him.

The beast reminded him of a Triceratops, a scaly figure the size of two semis put together, but the head was like that of a hammerhead shark.

Its mouth opened and it spoke. "You've got five days to send your buddies packing. If they ain't gone by then, you're gonna find there are worse things than living in that body. A lot worse!"

Brian blinked, and the lumbering beast vanished without a sound, like it had gone to Triceratops Ninja School, or, more likely, it had never been there in the first place. A hallucination.

With a sigh, he crept a bit further into the jungle, cleared off a spot in the dirt, and laid down.


	52. Chapter 53: Company Chapel

I didn't know what I was getting into when I went down to that chapel.

The doorway was framed in stained glass, depicting birds and butterflies and abstract shapes, not speaking directly to any particular religious affiliation. I saw a stack of pamphlets sticking out of a little box attached to the nearby wall. Classical music drifted through the air, Beethoven or Brahms or something. No hymns, not even their instrumental versions.

It seemed that just about everyone in the building was in attendance. They sat in rows of chairs, dressed in uniforms or dress clothing, all with Moslem head scarves or kippots, with strange ceremonial markings on their cheeks and foreheads, each clutching program guides and ferns and cups of dirt and vials of blood.

I had on a green polo and black slacks, my regular work uniform when I wasn't being forced to wear a dress.

At one end, photographs of Brian decorated an altar marked with an ankh, a tree, the Yin Yang sign, a pentagram, a star and crescent, the star of David, a Ganesha statue, the Ichycanthus, the Hindu sign and the trinity symbol.

I approached the altar, on account of the photographs.

In between a wide assortment of pan-religious brick-a-brac, I saw a digital photo frame shuffling through Disney vacation pictures, a framed picture of Brian holding an amateur golf trophy, a wedding photo, a picture of him with children, a shot of him as a child with his parents at the Grand Canyon, as well as a Christmas picture and a scattering of smaller glossy 4x6's and 5x7's of him at parties and sporting events and other special occasions.

As I stared at a picture of Brian and Sal standing in front of a big purple planet with two crisscrossed rings, someone handed me a kippot.

It was Gary. I hadn't seen him for a few days, but I guessed he was busy in some other part of the building, maybe eating while I was at work.

"Where have you been hiding?" I asked, staring at the weird symbol above his eyes.

"My office," he shrugged.

I frowned at the piece of fabric. "I thought Brian was a Catholic or something," I whispered to him.

"He was. We wear napkins to avoid offending anyone. Notice how there's no crosses."

I waved a hand at a statue of an elephant god. "I guess that explains this."

"Exactly." And he spun a prayer wheel. "Now put on that hat and go get Lynda to put a sign on your forehead."

I frowned at the strange Hindu-esque symbol on his head. "I'm not doing that."

Gary shrugged. 'No one's forcing you."

With a sigh, I took a seat on the back row.

After waiting around for ten to twenty minutes listening to people cry and blubber about the deceased above the sounds of recorded Hare Krishna music, a little redhead woman in glasses and a pastor's outfit came out and shook some hands, consoling the grieving for another ten minutes.

Introducing herself as Lynda Garrett, she shook my hand, telling me not to cry, and that Brian's soul had moved on into the light, taking a voyage on its way to becoming one with the oversoul.

I shuddered and quickly withdrew my hand.

At long last, she stepped behind a podium, giving this invocation:

"We call upon the powers of the cosmos to protect our ceremonies. In the name of Zeus, in the name of Anubis, the god of the dead, in the name of the sea born Aphrodite, in the name of Del Medea, Dionysus, Zagreus, Jesus, Iao Sabao, Jehou, the unnameable, the Quintessence, finality to the Zoroastrian fire, in the name of Hermes, in the name of the beak of Thoth, in the name of Wodin, in the name of the Tyrone Power Poundcake Society in the sky, in the name of Ra, Osirus, Horus, Nephthys, Isis, Horpocrates, in the name of Lolkomo, Yosvixib, Ewmulsa, Inahune and Ewwah, in the name of the flowing, living universe, we begin this ceremony..."

I couldn't take any more. I got up and walked out.


	53. Chapter 54: Secret Service

A bellyache woke Brian up about an hour later. Unsurprising, considering how he'd eaten nothing ever since he'd woken up in this body.

He found a healthy Viper Wolf and shot it down with a handgun he'd found inside a locked cabinet.

Despite his new fingers being large and clumsy, he managed to get it to work. Sort of.

The thing only came down after he'd shot it four times, but he got it, and all that stuff he learned in Boy Scouts finally came to some use, as he had to build a fire and make the meat change to a safe looking color to avoid getting sick.

When he took the first bite, his eyes got misty as he thought of the times he'd eaten similar dinners in the cafeteria, and how he could never go back to that life ever again.

It was only when he got to the point of sucking leftover gristle off a rib bone did he realize he'd eaten enough meat to represent a small calf.

Once his hunger had been satisfied, he returned to his mattress, and dreamed.

0000000000

There was an actual church, a bona fide bible believing church, hidden in the building where I never would have thought to look.

The girl had led me down through the now familiar corridors of my workplace, past the bedrooms and showers and what have you, down another level to the greenhouse and the giant water reservoir, and then we descended another flight of stairs.

Past a row of offices, we came to a portion of the building that looked unfinished, and I could see a cave tunnel yawning through an unfinished section of one of the walls.

I followed her inside, and I found myself marching through a twisting maze of passages winding through the planet, each marked with carvings of the Christian fish symbol. I think if they hadn't been there, we would have ended up falling into a chasm.

After clambering through these tunnels for a few yards, the passage opened up into a vast garden, where I could see an altar with a cross and a small group of people and other creatures praying.

"As you can see, we worship off property," said Osmifa. "This garden provides life support in case the facility moves. It's fed by an aqueduct connected to one of the rivers up top."

At this point, Osmifa appeared to faint.

Concerned, I knelt by her side. She seemed to be breathing normally, though my first aid skills were so bad that I couldn't tell if it were my pulse or hers I was reading when I tried to check it.

When she came to, she sat up and said, "Thank you, Osmifa."

She stared at me. "Come. We're missing the service. It's good to meet another Christian."

"Yeah," I stammered. "Am I speaking with the `host' now?"

She nodded. "I am Grobe Osei."

I frowned. "Did your `symbiote' tell me the truth? You volunteered?"

She nodded. "At first I thought I would suffocate from ingesting Osmifa's large body, but she was very gentle with my internal organs. I can tell you more later. Come, we're missing service."

The memorial was heartfelt and it gave me a sense of peace the other service lacked. I wasn't sure where Brian's spirit would go, since he belonged to the Church of Sycophants upstairs, but it cheered me to actually associate with people of a similar faith again.

At the end of service, I sat down on one of the rock "benches" that surrounded the place, next to Osmifa (or whoever), watching water pouring down a pipe into an irrigation canal around the perimeter of the worship area. "So, uh...am i still talking to...the host?"

She nodded.

"So, uh, the...alien was dying, and you just volunteered to let it crawl up your throat?"

She nodded. "I felt bad for it. I was good friends with it when it occupied its previous format. I did what I thought a friend should do."

"So...where does it stay? I mean, in your body."

She answered my question like a young kid explaining how his new artificial leg operates. A sort of pathetic but cheerful eagerness that churns the stomach. "It resides inside my skull, and in the back of my nose." She smiled as she attempted to point them out to me. "And it feeds through tubes leading down into my stomach, kind of like friends sticking straws into a shared shared strawberry milk shake."

The idea nearly put me off the idea of eating milkshakes all together.

"It took a part of your brain," I protested. "Are you sure you're in the right mind to decide whether or not having that thing in there is a good idea?"

She nodded her head. "It knows what goes there. It had been saving those parts of my brain for whenever I need them. It can always put them back."

"It can?"

She shrugged. "It only trimmed the unnecessary parts. She rearranged my brain to make its parts more efficient, but she did no more to it. Everything is still there."

Somehow, I doubted it, but what good was it for me to say so? If the thing had truly brainwashed her, there'd be no point. I kept silent as she continued.

"...A few portions, such as the matter nearer to my base stem, were incorporated into its body, but it can still reconstitute a portion and replace the missing parts if I desire it to leave. But I don't wish to. I enjoy sharing its thoughts and memories and feelings. I appreciate its knowledge, its skills, and the enhanced sensory experience."

"Enhanced?"

"I see...more than others. I can smell like a bloodhound. I taste in more dimensions. And when I..." she glanced back at the cross. She glanced back at the congregation a minute, then dropped her voice down a few levels. "Let's just say that there is no longer anything called solo sex. I can't imagine what it will be like to be married."

I cringed. "Uh...well, thanks for bringing me here, at any rate."

"It's no problem," she smiled. "I hope i didn't make you uncomfortable."

"Uh, no. You're fine. I'll make sure to drop by for services when I can. After all, we read from the same book."

"Would you like Osmifa to lead you out?" she said in a different voice.

I nodded. "Unless you can do it. I'll probably get lost."

"It's not that hard. You only need to follow the fishes." She gave me a smile. "You should bring Ibira with you next time. We gladly welcome visitors . Well, except for the Moderator of Religious Activities. He'd close the whole place down."

I swallowed. "A religious moderator?"

"Yeah. Not a nice person. He's part of DOGOS. He gives us problems whenever he `audits' our services."

"That sucks."

She fainted again. When she got to her feet, her movements and posture changed. It seemed when she was Osmifa, she had a more confident air to her, and her back seemed a lot straighter.

As we walked, she asked me about my other jobs. I told her about them, then how I got to work at DOGOS, about the crazy events that followed my minor fender bender.

"So that's how I ended up here," I finished as I followed her out the mouth of the tunnel and into the hallway outside. "How about you? How did you and your, um, host body get here?"

She smiled. "I have been working for decades at different companies long before Grobe was born. I have tried my hand at a variety of careers, from retail to medicine to the arts, both culinary and performing, and call centers."

I stared at her in astonishment. "Wow. Sounds like you've done a bit of everything."

"Yes, it's been some time."

I thought about it for a moment. "So you were in the arts too?"

"I worked for the Vorgipi agency. We made posters and signs and commercials."

"Wow. Can i see your portfolio?"

"I didn't bring it with me," she smiled "I'll try to find something for you later."

"So why are you stuck slopping food in a cafeteria?"

She gave me a dismissive wave. "Come. Let's take a walk through hydroponics."

Shrugging, I followed her there, occasionally waving to the little creatures working on the plants.

"Our job is the only job at this company where Grobe can truly be herself. In the cafeteria, she can reach her coworkers in ways she can not do in any other position. In the call center, I did all the talking, and her success was all due to me. While grateful for the advantage it gave her financially, she did not want to be dominated by me for eight to twelve hours, and, sadly, she herself often made mistakes and stumbled over her words, which didn't please management one bit.

"And so we were fortunate to find this position as `galley cook'. She loves the job. The company would never hire a genuine Christian chaplain, so our easy position gave us the perfect opportunity to present the message in an undiluted form."

"That's crazy." I laughed and shook my head. "I wish you the best of luck on that. I really respect what you're doing.." I paused. "Did you say that you had culinary experience?"

She nodded.

"Then why does everything here taste like camp food?"

Osmifa scowled at me. "Do you tell your mother that her cooking sucks?"

"Um...sometimes."

As she was opening her mouth to say something, I added, "Of course, she also asks me to cook for her."

She scowled. "Oh. because your cooking is so good?"

I reddened. "No...well, maybe a little, but not really. I'm not like Emeril or Chef Prudhomme or anything."

This made her giggle. "I'm going to make you cook for me sometime."

I shook my head. "I didn't mean to offend you, but you said you knew the culinary arts and this stuff is...well, it's not exactly gourmet here. What kind of cook were you?"

"You're certainly not earning any brownie points with either of us tonight, but I will tell you anyway. I was an Unbaqen chef for Acevedo, one of the most famous catering services in the galaxy. I know how to cook Cukurko, roasted Dejarius, Jefbebi marinade, and Eclatsi. Appetizers, meals, desserts, you name it. Unfortunately, you and your coworkers have no desire to eat such things, and I know very little about cooking food for humans. I only have a basic rudimentary understanding based on information I have gleaned from Grobe's mind. Plus we cannot afford all the luxury ingredients for many of the foods you desire...or even spiced Ognempe."

I swallowed. "Okay, so how did you get into DOGOS?"

"I was working in the Galactic Library at the time, and still in my cloned body..."

I laughed. "A library. Oh. I'm sorry. A _galactic_ library. How does that even work? Do people just fly spaceships up to it every week or something?"

She shrugged. "Yes. It was a space station. Actually, a confederation of space stations."

"A galactic library system, right?"

"Yes."

"So what happens if you don't return a book?"

"You get fined and receive a periodic interest."

"If they don't pay, do you have to hunt them down?

"No," she laughed. "Why would we do that?"

I thought for a minute, then said," How do you get a card?"

"You must bring identifying documents up to the station. In person."

I sighed. "You said your body was cloned?"

"Yes. My people generally use cloned forms. We do not wish to disturb the lives of sentient beings who wish to live their own independent lives."

We watched a squid creature piling corn pods into a basket.

"So...you met your friend at the library."

"Yes. When I first joined, she taught me how to shelve and other basic duties. Then we were assigned zones next to each other.

"Sadly, unknown to us, our particular station was positioned in the middle of a Jowdust war zone, and that was the reason they had positions open.

"About a month into the job, we discovered that the strange popping sounds we'd been hearing for weeks were actually exploding spaceships.

"And then one of the combatants came by and opened fire on the facility."

I stared at her. "It sounds like the place was under attack for a long time. Why would anyone in their right mind want to come there and check out books?"

"I don't know, but you'd be surprised at the volume of customers."

I didn't know what to make of that. We walked on down the path, watching as another creature seeded a barren patch of dirt. "So you were attacked. Then what happened?"

"The structure only withstood a few direct hits before it started to break apart. I helped the employees and patrons to evacuate the best I could, planning to leave with them once I had found the last of them, but as I was leading, a little deaf girl up one of the aisles leading to the emergency exit, a mountain of debris fell upon my container, destroying its vital functions.

"That's when Grobe saved me. She was only eighteen at the time, but she volunteered to be my new host. We took other jobs, trying our hands at different things, until we applied to DOGOS during an open house on planet Appidak. So that's my story."

"So..was it the war and the explosion that made you stop being a librarian, or was it something else?"

"A little of both. It was too quiet. Too cloistered. Grobe was tired of the isolation and wanted to be where the people were."

I smiled. "That's interesting."

She fainted.

"So...uh, i see that you like Ibira."

"Yeah. She's..." What I really wanted to say didn't seem appropriate to the situation. "She's uh, nice. I really like her."

"And you do not care that she is of a different species?"

"That's what's great about her."

"So...this is just...a fetish of yours? Xenophilia?"

"I guess you can say that."

"It's doubtful you will produce any offspring that way."

"That's kind of the point. I don't want to pass on my bad genetics to anyone. At least, not anyone human."

"So you... haven't yet."

I shrugged. "No."

Her eyes rolled back for a moment, and she appeared to faint. "Sorry. Osmifa wanted me to continue here because he doesn't understand it." She paused. "What makes you say your genetics are bad?"

I listed off my defects.

"There are worse psychological problems one can have ," she said. "And your physical shape is not unappealing. In fact, it appears you've been working out somewhat."

I shrugged. "Pushups and situps three times a week. That's it."

"What for? Who are you trying to impress?"

"Myself," I said. "It's supposed to combat depression and improve my moods."

"Wouldn't...dating also improve your moods?"

"I'm doing that."

Osmifa sighed. "Look. God makes all of us the way He does for a reason. Doubtless you've read the passage from Isaiah 45 about the clay and the potter."

"Is that one where it says not to criticize the potter that makes you?"

"Yes."

"Nice try. but the subject is whether or not this pot should produce other pots, not whether or not the original was any good. So I say no."

"We all have defects. Our shortcomings are what make us realize how much we depend on others for survival. A puzzle piece with a hole at one end is not a defective piece. It was designed to interlock with something to make a beautiful larger picture."

I was getting the impression that she was trying to interlock holes with me. "Sorry, no. " I said with a frown. "It's a nice idea, but for most my life I've felt like one of those pieces that don't fit anywhere anywhere until everything is glued together and the interlocking pieces have been lost behind a sofa.

"I mean, really. How will I know if the pieces fit? What if they never fit? I'm sorry, but I've given up on that game a long time ago. I've pretty much failed at every significant realm of human endeavor, and I don't want another failure like me running around. I've made a lot of mistakes, and I don't want my son to have to go through all that."

I looked away. "It's not fair that I have to live in a world that has evil and death and poverty in it. I didn't ask to be born on the planet I was born on, and have to work at whatever scummy job I can work in just to put food on the table and a roof over my head or whatever. It makes me wish I had never existed. At the very least, my parents certainly would have fought a lot less."

"It wasn't my idea to be born where I was, either," she said. "It certainly wasn't a picnic. Even though it wasn't your planet, it was hard, nonetheless. But it's not about us. We're the clay, remember?"

"Or a chess piece," I groaned. "I guess you're right."

Osmifa nodded. "Plus, suddenly not existing when you used to exist would be scary." She paused. "You know, when a pawn gets to the end of the board, it changes into a queen."

"Wonderful," I said. "I already have the dress."

I sat down on a bench.

"It doesn't matter, though. I'm not having kids. I'm not going to put anyone else through this life of torment."

"It's not so bad here, you know," she said. "It could be worse."

"There's always someone worse."

She put a hand on my shoulder. "I still think you need someone more physically compatible. You may not want kids, but if you loved someone enough, and you had them..."

I narrowed my eyes, brushing her hand away. "Are you're trying to drive a wedge between me and Ibira?'

Her expression turned glum. "Think what you want."

I stared at the concrete wall at the end of the greenhouse. "I'm afraid, Ibira. I'm afraid I could snap and hit my kids like my dad did. I really can't say I'm any different than he was. Maybe worse with these weird sleepwalking episodes."

I explained those to her.

After an awkward silence, she said, "Have you seen a counselor?"

"Yeah. Kind of." I shrugged. "Mostly I see a psychiatrist . My problems are all chemical. If I have a problem, I confide in the Lord. I don't see a point to a psychologist. All they do is silently listen anyway. Doesn't help."

She frowned. "A good psychologist could at least help correct some of these unhealthy philosophies."

"You're assuming I'd question myself enough to see someone to change my mind. If you'd met me a few years earlier, when I was younger and more idealistic, I would have thought about it. But right now I'm only going through an interesting detour on a road that is constantly trending downhill."

"I will pray for you," she sighed.

"My grandma said she'd pray for me to get a job, but I didn't get anything but temp jobs until a few months after she died. And that wasn't even in my chosen field."

"You're working now, aren't you?"

I shrugged. "Yes, but I had to kill and bury my dreams to get here. I pretty much came to accept the fact that I'll never make it in the graphic arts and moved on."

"And you're not better off at all."

Thinking about Dennis and all the related garbage, I forced a laugh, shaking my head.

"Hopefully when we meet for service again, you'll be in a better mood, I mean, thinking less pessimistically."

"Oh sure."

She gave up and walked away.


	54. Chapter 55: Clay Pigeons

A bellyache woke Brian up about an hour later. Unsurprising, considering how he'd eaten nothing ever since he'd woken up in this body.

He found a healthy Viper Wolf and shot it down with a handgun he'd found inside a locked cabinet.

Despite his new fingers being large and clumsy, he managed to get it to work. Sort of.

The thing only came down after he'd shot it four times, but he got it, and all that stuff he learned in Boy Scouts finally came to some use, as he had to build a fire and make the meat change to a safe looking color to avoid getting sick.

When he took the first bite, his eyes got misty as he thought of the times he'd eaten similar dinners in the cafeteria, and how he could never go back to that life ever again.

It was only when he got to the point of sucking leftover gristle off a rib bone did he realize he'd eaten enough meat to represent a small calf.

Once his hunger had been satisfied, he returned to his mattress, and dreamed.

* * *

><p>There was an actual church, a bona fide bible believing church, hidden in the building where I never would have thought to look.<p>

The girl had led me down through the now familiar corridors of my workplace, past the bedrooms and showers and what have you, down another level to the greenhouse and the giant water reservoir, and then we descended another flight of stairs.

Past a row of offices, we came to a portion of the building that looked unfinished, and I could see a cave tunnel yawning through an unfinished section of one of the walls.

I followed her inside, and I found myself marching through a twisting maze of passages winding through the planet, each marked with carvings of the Christian fish symbol. I think if they hadn't been there, we would have ended up falling into a chasm.

After clambering through these tunnels for a few yards, the passage opened up into a vast garden, where I could see an altar with a cross and a small group of people and other creatures praying.

"As you can see, we worship off property," said Osmifa. "This garden provides life support in case the facility moves. It's fed by an aqueduct connected to one of the rivers up top."

At this point, Osmifa appeared to faint.

Concerned, I knelt by her side. She seemed to be breathing normally, though my first aid skills were so bad that I couldn't tell if it were my pulse or hers I was reading when I tried to check it.

When she came to, she sat up and said, "Thank you, Osmifa."

She stared at me. "Come. We're missing the service. It's good to meet another Christian."

"Yeah," I stammered. "Am I speaking with the `host' now?"

She nodded. "I am Grobe Osei."

I frowned. "Did your `symbiote' tell me the truth? You volunteered?"

She nodded. "At first I thought I would suffocate from ingesting Osmifa's large body, but she was very gentle with my internal organs. I can tell you more later. Come, we're missing service."

The memorial was heartfelt and it gave me a sense of peace the other service lacked. I wasn't sure where Brian's spirit would go, since he belonged to the Church of Sycophants upstairs, but it cheered me to actually associate with people of a similar faith again.

At the end of service, I sat down on one of the rock "benches" that surrounded the place, next to Osmifa (or whoever), watching water pouring down a pipe into an irrigation canal around the perimeter of the worship area. "So, uh...am i still talking to...the host?"

She nodded.

"So, uh, the...alien was dying, and you just volunteered to let it crawl up your throat?"

She nodded. "I felt bad for it. I was good friends with it when it occupied its previous format. I did what I thought a friend should do."

"So...where does it stay? I mean, in your body."

She answered my question like a young kid explaining how his new artificial leg operates. A sort of pathetic but cheerful eagerness that churns the stomach. "It resides inside my skull, and in the back of my nose." She smiled as she attempted to point them out to me. "And it feeds through tubes leading down into my stomach, kind of like friends sticking straws into a shared shared strawberry milk shake."

The idea nearly put me off the idea of eating milkshakes all together.

"It took a part of your brain," I protested. "Are you sure you're in the right mind to decide whether or not having that thing in there is a good idea?"

She nodded her head. "It knows what goes there. It had been saving those parts of my brain for whenever I need them. It can always put them back."

"It can?"

She shrugged. "It only trimmed the unnecessary parts. She rearranged my brain to make its parts more efficient, but she did no more to it. Everything is still there."

Somehow, I doubted it, but what good was it for me to say so? If the thing had truly brainwashed her, there'd be no point. I kept silent as she continued.

"...A few portions, such as the matter nearer to my base stem, were incorporated into its body, but it can still reconstitute a portion and replace the missing parts if I desire it to leave. But I don't wish to. I enjoy sharing its thoughts and memories and feelings. I appreciate its knowledge, its skills, and the enhanced sensory experience."

"Enhanced?"

"I see...more than others. I can smell like a bloodhound. I taste in more dimensions. And when I..." she glanced back at the cross. She glanced back at the congregation a minute, then dropped her voice down a few levels. "Let's just say that there is no longer anything called solo sex. I can't imagine what it will be like to be married."

I cringed. "Uh...well, thanks for bringing me here, at any rate."

"It's no problem," she smiled. "I hope i didn't make you uncomfortable."

"Uh, no. You're fine. I'll make sure to drop by for services when I can. After all, we read from the same book."

"Would you like Osmifa to lead you out?" she said in a different voice.

I nodded. "Unless you can do it. I'll probably get lost."

"It's not that hard. You only need to follow the fishes." She gave me a smile. "You should bring Ibira with you next time. We gladly welcome visitors . Well, except for the Moderator of Religious Activities. He'd close the whole place down."

I swallowed. "A religious moderator?"

"Yeah. Not a nice person. He's part of DOGOS. He gives us problems whenever he `audits' our services."

"That sucks."

She fainted again. When she got to her feet, her movements and posture changed. It seemed when she was Osmifa, she had a more confident air to her, and her back seemed a lot straighter.

As we walked, she asked me about my other jobs. I told her about them, then how I got to work at DOGOS, about the crazy events that followed my minor fender bender.

"So that's how I ended up here," I finished as I followed her out the mouth of the tunnel and into the hallway outside. "How about you? How did you and your, um, host body get here?"

She smiled. "I have been working for decades at different companies long before Grobe was born. I have tried my hand at a variety of careers, from retail to medicine to the arts, both culinary and performing, and call centers."

I stared at her in astonishment. "Wow. Sounds like you've done a bit of everything."

"Yes, it's been some time."

I thought about it for a moment. "So you were in the arts too?"

"I worked for the Vorgipi agency. We made posters and signs and commercials."

"Wow. Can i see your portfolio?"

"I didn't bring it with me," she smiled "I'll try to find something for you later."

"So why are you stuck slopping food in a cafeteria?"

She gave me a dismissive wave. "Come. Let's take a walk through hydroponics."

Shrugging, I followed her there, occasionally waving to the little creatures working on the plants.

"Our job is the only job at this company where Grobe can truly be herself. In the cafeteria, she can reach her coworkers in ways she can not do in any other position. In the call center, I did all the talking, and her success was all due to me. While grateful for the advantage it gave her financially, she did not want to be dominated by me for eight to twelve hours, and, sadly, she herself often made mistakes and stumbled over her words, which didn't please management one bit.

"And so we were fortunate to find this position as `galley cook'. She loves the job. The company would never hire a genuine Christian chaplain, so our easy position gave us the perfect opportunity to present the message in an undiluted form."

"That's crazy." I laughed and shook my head. "I wish you the best of luck on that. I really respect what you're doing.." I paused. "Did you say that you had culinary experience?"

She nodded.

"Then why does everything here taste like camp food?"

Osmifa scowled at me. "Do you tell your mother that her cooking sucks?"

"Um...sometimes."

As she was opening her mouth to say something, I added, "Of course, she also asks me to cook for her."

She scowled. "Oh. because your cooking is so good?"

I reddened. "No...well, maybe a little, but not really. I'm not like Emeril or Chef Prudhomme or anything."

This made her giggle. "I'm going to make you cook for me sometime."

I shook my head. "I didn't mean to offend you, but you said you knew the culinary arts and this stuff is...well, it's not exactly gourmet here. What kind of cook were you?"

"You're certainly not earning any brownie points with either of us tonight, but I will tell you anyway. I was an Unbaqen chef for Acevedo, one of the most famous catering services in the galaxy. I know how to cook Cukurko, roasted Dejarius, Jefbebi marinade, and Eclatsi. Appetizers, meals, desserts, you name it. Unfortunately, you and your coworkers have no desire to eat such things, and I know very little about cooking food for humans. I only have a basic rudimentary understanding based on information I have gleaned from Grobe's mind. Plus we cannot afford all the luxury ingredients for many of the foods you desire...or even spiced Ognempe."

I swallowed. "Okay, so how did you get into DOGOS?"

"I was working in the Galactic Library at the time, and still in my cloned body..."

I laughed. "A library. Oh. I'm sorry. A _galactic_ library. How does that even work? Do people just fly spaceships up to it every week or something?"

She shrugged. "Yes. It was a space station. Actually, a confederation of space stations."

"A galactic library system, right?"

"Yes."

"So what happens if you don't return a book?"

"You get fined and receive a periodic interest."

"If they don't pay, do you have to hunt them down?

"No," she laughed. "Why would we do that?"

I thought for a minute, then said," How do you get a card?"

"You must bring identifying documents up to the station. In person."

I sighed. "You said your body was cloned?"

"Yes. My people generally use cloned forms. We do not wish to disturb the lives of sentient beings who wish to live their own independent lives."

We watched a squid creature piling corn pods into a basket.

"So...you met your friend at the library."

"Yes. When I first joined, she taught me how to shelve and other basic duties. Then we were assigned zones next to each other.

"Sadly, unknown to us, our particular station was positioned in the middle of a Jowdust war zone, and that was the reason they had positions open.

"About a month into the job, we discovered that the strange popping sounds we'd been hearing for weeks were actually exploding spaceships.

"And then one of the combatants came by and opened fire on the facility."

I stared at her. "It sounds like the place was under attack for a long time. Why would anyone in their right mind want to come there and check out books?"

"I don't know, but you'd be surprised at the volume of customers."

I didn't know what to make of that. We walked on down the path, watching as another creature seeded a barren patch of dirt. "So you were attacked. Then what happened?"

"The structure only withstood a few direct hits before it started to break apart. I helped the employees and patrons to evacuate the best I could, planning to leave with them once I had found the last of them, but as I was leading, a little deaf girl up one of the aisles leading to the emergency exit, a mountain of debris fell upon my container, destroying its vital functions.

"That's when Grobe saved me. She was only eighteen at the time, but she volunteered to be my new host. We took other jobs, trying our hands at different things, until we applied to DOGOS during an open house on planet Appidak. So that's my story."

"So..was it the war and the explosion that made you stop being a librarian, or was it something else?"

"A little of both. It was too quiet. Too cloistered. Grobe was tired of the isolation and wanted to be where the people were."

I smiled. "That's interesting."

She fainted.

"So...uh, i see that you like Ibira."

"Yeah. She's..." What I really wanted to say didn't seem appropriate to the situation. "She's uh, nice. I really like her."

"And you do not care that she is of a different species?"

"That's what's great about her."

"So...this is just...a fetish of yours? Xenophilia?"

"I guess you can say that."

"It's doubtful you will produce any offspring that way."

"That's kind of the point. I don't want to pass on my bad genetics to anyone. At least, not anyone human."

"So you... haven't yet."

I shrugged. "No."

Her eyes rolled back for a moment, and she appeared to faint. "Sorry. Osmifa wanted me to continue here because he doesn't understand it." She paused. "What makes you say your genetics are bad?"

I listed off my defects.

"There are worse psychological problems one can have ," she said. "And your physical shape is not unappealing. In fact, it appears you've been working out somewhat."

I shrugged. "Pushups and situps three times a week. That's it."

"What for? Who are you trying to impress?"

"Myself," I said. "It's supposed to combat depression and improve my moods."

"Wouldn't...dating also improve your moods?"

"I'm doing that."

Osmifa sighed. "Look. God makes all of us the way He does for a reason. Doubtless you've read the passage from Isaiah 45 about the clay and the potter."

"Is that one where it says not to criticize the potter that makes you?"

"Yes."

"Nice try. but the subject is whether or not this pot should produce other pots, not whether or not the original was any good. So I say no."

"We all have defects. Our shortcomings are what make us realize how much we depend on others for survival. A puzzle piece with a hole at one end is not a defective piece. It was designed to interlock with something to make a beautiful larger picture."

I was getting the impression that she was trying to interlock holes with me. "Sorry, no. " I said with a frown. "It's a nice idea, but for most my life I've felt like one of those pieces that don't fit anywhere anywhere until everything is glued together and the interlocking pieces have been lost behind a sofa.

"I've pretty much failed at every significant realm of human endeavor, and I don't want another failure like me running around. I've made a lot of mistakes, and I don't want my son to have to go through all that."

I looked away. "It's not fair that I have to live in a world that has evil and death and poverty in it. I didn't ask to be born on the planet I was born on, and have to work at whatever scummy job I can work in just to put food on the table and a roof over my head or whatever. It makes me wish I had never existed. At the very least, my parents certainly would have fought a lot less."

"It wasn't my idea to be born where I was, either," she said. "It certainly wasn't a picnic. Even though it wasn't your planet, it was hard, nonetheless. But it's not about us. We're the clay, remember?"

"Or a chess piece," I groaned. "I guess you're right."

Osmifa nodded. "Plus, suddenly not existing when you used to exist would be scary." She paused. "You know, when a pawn gets to the end of the board, it changes into a queen."

"Wonderful," I said. "I already have the dress."

I sat down on a bench.

"It doesn't matter, though. I'm not having kids. I'm not going to put anyone else through this life of torment."

"It's not so bad here, you know," she said. "It could be worse."

"There's always someone worse."

She put a hand on my shoulder. "I still think you need someone more physically compatible. You may not want kids, but if you loved someone enough, and you had them..."

I narrowed my eyes, brushing her hand away. "Are you're trying to drive a wedge between me and Ibira?'

Her expression turned glum. "Think what you want."

I stared at the concrete wall at the end of the greenhouse. "I'm afraid, Osmifa. I'm afraid I could snap and hit my kids like my dad did. I really can't say I'm any different than he was. Maybe worse with these weird sleepwalking episodes."

When she looked confused, I explained those to her.

After an awkward silence, she said, "Have you seen a counselor?"

"Yeah. Kind of." I shrugged. "Mostly I see a psychiatrist . My problems are all chemical. If I have a problem, I confide in the Lord. I don't see a point to a psychologist. All they do is silently listen anyway. Doesn't help."

She frowned. "Although I think it's good that you pray, a good psychologist could at least help correct some of these unhealthy philosophies."

"You're assuming I'd question myself enough to see someone to change my mind. If you'd met me a few years earlier, when I was younger and more idealistic, I would have thought about it. But right now I'm only going through an interesting detour on a road that is constantly trending downhill."

"I will pray for you," she sighed.

"My grandma said she'd pray for me to get a job, but I didn't get anything but temp jobs until a few months after she died. And that wasn't even in my chosen field."

"You're working now, aren't you?"

I shrugged. "Yes, but I had to kill and bury my dreams to get here. I pretty much came to accept the fact that I'll never make it in the graphic arts and moved on."

"And you're not better off at all."

Thinking about Dennis and all the related garbage, I forced a laugh, shaking my head.

"Hopefully when we meet for service again, you'll be in a better mood, I mean, thinking less pessimistically."

"Oh sure."

She gave up and walked away.


	55. Chapter 56: Clarity

Brian awoke from an old recurring dream, the one about being stuck in an apartment where the lights were all off and he couldn't read the switches on the fuse box to figure out what happened to the electricity.

The one where none of the flashlights had batteries and it was an ordeal to open the light covers to examine the fluorescent tubes but the refrigerator still made noise and the microwave had lit up numbers on it.

He thought that the microwave and the refrigerator had blown a fuse after being plugged into the same outlet, but the light was still on on the microwave face.

He didn't want to replace all the tubes, so he hoped against hope that something else could be done, like replacing a fuse.

A sudden noise awoke him.

He checked all around the barracks before realizing he'd hit a stray soda can with his tail while he slept.

He set the can on a nearby bed, returning to the mattress.

When he drifted off again, the sleep was sweeter than he'd ever remembered having for a long time, and all without his usual nightly dose of alcohol. It was a feat amazing in and of itself.

He dreamed about his ex, happy, back in his arms, and she didn't even care he was a blue thing with a snout.

He drove back to work, but got lost and arrived at the end of his shift, so he had to make up the time.

Then he talked with Sal in the med lab, holding hands, kissing.

Suddenly, she turned blue, her face elongating into a snout, and her hair reformed itself into a glowing afro.

Her mouth opened robotically, and it felt like someone had just switched on a giant microphone in his brain.

"I bet you think you were slick, didn't you, motherfucker?" It was the masculine voice of the so-called `goddess' speaking into his mind. "Pretty fucking slick, throwing all that fungal shit down into my lair and trying to kill me. Let me tell you, you stupid son of a bitch, you ain't slick, and you're about to find out exactly what the fuck vengeance is mine truly means."

Brian paled, his breathing becoming shallow with terror.

"You'd better get your ass ready for a showdown, because you just messed with the wrong motherfucker!"

Brian sat bolt upright on the dusty old mattress he'd been sleeping on, gasping and sweating as he stared into the dark barracks, trying to calm himself down.

"Shit!" he snorted. "The Matrix has me!"

It was just a dream, he thought. Just a dream.

"Your ass don't know what The Matrix is!"

He glanced all around, but saw nothing. It seemed the voice was now broadcasting through his subconscious mind.

"You ain't seen The Matrix yet!"

"Shut up! Shut up!"

The voice cackled maniacally, fading away until the only interior dialog Brian heard was his own.

Unable to sleep anymore, he got up and wandered the gray concrete building, randomly tidying up things he saw amiss when he felt like it, leaving others alone when he didn't. Straightening shelves and chairs, yes. Dusting and scrubbing grease stains, no.

As he passed the giant metal cooler with the broken door, he suddenly remembered why he remembered that oinker he toasted with engine fuel.

When he recalled images of the green one that had put the beast here, he resolved to apologize to her the best he could.

That slaughter in the hallway didn't seem so macho or cool now that he had blue skin.

* * *

><p>After my meeting with Osmifa, I went to bed.<p>

When my eyes reopened, I was standing in a strange field peppered with trees, seemingly in the middle of nowhere.

Ahead of me, impossibly enough, I could see myself, pasty, narrow and white, clad only in a pair of tighty whities.

It was like I was staring at a full length mirror. But if I was staring at me, who was I?

I brushed a long black braid of my hair out of my face with a blue hand.

Wait. What?

I stopped, staring down at my body.

Naked, save for a loincloth. Navy blue, spotted skin.

I looked back up, marching closer to myself.

I raised a friendly hand.

My other self responded in kind, slowly ambling closer.

And then we stood nearly touching, only a few feet apart.

Without thinking, I offered him a braid.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," I heard a voice saying behind me.

"Do what?"

I blinked, and suddenly I was me, staring at a blue freak in a loincloth. I frowned at the angular cat's face that was simultaneously mine and not mine with confusion and puzzlement.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a green figure stepping out from behind a tree.

I turned just in time to see her raising a shiny Glock pistol with her third hand.

She fired, and the blue body collapsed on the dirt.

Feeling a wave of excruciating pain, I fell to my knees, clutching my chest as my pulse fluctuated wildly.

A pair of left hands pulled me to my feet. "C'mon. Let's go."

I staggered after her, feeling both relieved and betrayed at the same time.

I had many questions, but felt too sick to ask them, trying to catch breaths to slow my pulse.

"Like Gary said, you don't want those braids in any part of your body."

"But he called to me," I wheezed. "He was in my mind! He's always been in my mind!"

She gave me a stern look. "Did you want him there?"

I swallowed. "I...don't know."

Ibira sighed. "It's too late now. At least you're free."

"I was about to establish peaceful contact," I gasped.

"Yes. You would have died peacefully."

She dragged me forward, but I was struggling, so she threw my arm over her upper shoulder, carrying me along until I saw the small shape of the building come into view.

Now that I had made sufficient distance from the blue guy, my pulse resumed its normal rhythm.

I stopped, grabbing one of Ibira's hands. We stared at each other.

"Look," I stammered. "I...I'm not sure I should thank you, or hate you, but..." I swallowed. "Thanks for saving my life, I guess."

She smiled. "Then you're welcome, I guess."

I frowned. "I don't know. I just thought that maybe I would have figured out why that guy had been in my mind doing crazy things with my body for all those years. What was the purpose? What was the point?"

To my surprise, she had an answer. "There's a small tribe a few miles away from here. Somehow they've been developing techniques to keep their dying village elders alive by capturing agents and transferring their consciousness into young alien shells. The fact that they bothered with you indicates they considered your body prime real estate."

I swallowed. "So they're still out there."

She shrugged. "According to intelligence reports, they're all supposed to be dead."

The thought made me shudder.

"C'mon. Let's go back inside."

As my mind recovered from its reeling, a thought came to me. "You said that they exchange consciousness for a moment. I was not in my body. I was looking at myself. How did you know that you could shoot him without killing me?"

She smiled. "Your friend knew full well what was going on, but you didn't. You had a dumb, confused look on your face. That was, well, unmistakably you."

"Dumb...look?" I stammered.

She slipped her tusks around my face, touching my forehead to mine. "Yes. Just like the one you're giving me right now." And she kissed me.

* * *

><p>As the buttons clicked down beneath his big blue fingers, Brian felt more human than he had in many days.<p>

He'd found the computer in the vehicle bay. Once he'd figured out how to get the power on, he seated himself on a pair of empty ammunition crates, then closed the inventory program, exploring the other software.

Although unable to find any games on it besides minesweeper and solitaire, his search did uncover something far more useful: a video recording program.

During his search of the computer's folders and subfolders, the thought of opening a word processing program and typing his memoirs had always been in the back of his mind, but now he didn't have to.

As fun as it was to type on a real keyboard (he always hated virtual ones) his big blue fingers had reduced his ordinarily phenomenal typing speed of 25 wpm to about ten or fifteen. By the time he would have typed anything of import, he doubtless would have a a group of guys pointing guns at his pokey ass, telling him to vamoose.

This video, then, would be his diary. His method of taking notes. His last message to everyone he cared about. Provided they understood him.

He took a deep breath and clicked the record button.

"My name is Brian Ross," he snorted into the camera. "I was a manager at DOGOS until I got sprayed in the face with a brain destroying fungal agent."

Overwhelmed with emotion, he let out a heavy sigh. It took him a minute to gather enough motivation to continue.

"I had some kind of near death experience and God sent me back to the planet in this body. I don't know if anyone will believe this , but it's true."

He held up his tie.

"This is actually my tie. I didn't steal it from anything. It's from my own personal sock drawer. I was always wearing crazy ties. I hope someone will see me wearing this and know who I am, but I don't know."

He sniffed, eyes already blurring with tears.

"I miss you guys. I really do. But you don't seem to know who I am."

He sighed, staring sadly at the monitor.

"Sal, I love you. I miss you so bad. I remember you at my bedside when I was dying. You really love me, don't you?"

He sniffed and wiped his eyes. "Sal, if I had a chance to go back and make everything up to you, I would. You were right about me being afraid of commitment. Look. I don't care if workplace relationships don't work for other people." He shook his head. "I don't care about getting into your pants anymore. I want your heart. I want your companionship. I wish you could see that."

Brian broke into tears. "I just want to hold you again. Is that so wrong?"

He fell silent for several moments, wiping his eyes as the tears kept coming.

Shaking his head, he looked away from the screen. He stopped the recording.

When he had calmed down again, he clicked the record button once more. "Victor, you were like a little brother to me. I'm sorry about all the short jokes. I really do think you're the greatest manager who ever lived. Okay, so maybe I just love midgets and dwarves..."

After saying farewell to half the people in the building, he explained the situation with the cave and the guy with the afro and his vague threat that he could do nothing about, closing the file a good two hours later.

He didn't know what good it would do, but it felt good to get it off his chest.

* * *

><p>I slept like I'd never slept before in my entire life, undisturbed by weird dreams of blue people or sleepwalking, I actually felt rested when I woke up. I don't think I actually dreamed anything at all, but that part wasn't a big loss.<p>

My morning went like the previous ones did. As usual, it began with me spraying Ikran urine off my clothes and body.

This time I had sense to wear swim trunks to bed.

After I cleaned up, I donned my dress, my diaper, and marched off to breakfast.

We had grits, oatmeal, and slices of something blue that kind of sort of looked like bacon, but clearly wasn't.

"So," Ibira said as I sat down at her table with a tray of food. "How was your service?"

I stared at her. "How did you know I went to a different service?"

She gave me this look like I were a silly child. "I saw Osmifa leading you down the hall."

"Um...yeah," I said. "It was nice. Much more rooted in the bible, at any rate."

"You didn't miss much. Ours had nice music, but the sermon was too long, and it lacked coherence."

I laughed. "They're trying to placate people of every religion. How could it be otherwise?"

" I think yours would have been better." She smiled. "I also didn't agree to the message about reincarnation. I do not believe you get multiple attempts at perfection. I somehow don't think Brian did either."

I furrowed my brow. "Then how does that nature goddess worship work? How do you accept the idea of being absorbed into nature at the end of your life?"

This seemed to annoy her. I flinched.

"We are not absorbed in spirit. The good continue on the plains of Dalmudo, and the Ovbidli hunt, ride and farm it for all eternity."

"That's strange."

There was an awkward silence.

"Osmifa was telling me I should bring you to a service some time," I ventured.

The idea didn't phase her. "I went there once."

"Really?"

She shrugged. "I suppose I wouldn't mind going again."

I ate more of my breakfast.

"Do you like her?" she asked.

"Who, Osmifa?"

She nodded. "Or Grobe."

I swallowed. "I...as a friend?"

"So you would not date her?"

"No."

"It seems you are more compatible physically, and you share the same beliefs..."

"True..." I sighed. "Are you trying to get rid of me?"

She laughed. "Now why would I do that?"

"I don't know."

She stared at me with a half amused, half baffled expression. "I believe we have eliminated one of the many `defects' you described to me earlier. Are you saying this does not alter in any way your previous viewpoint about sex?"

After thinking about it for a long moment, I said, "Only if you can kill the thing that makes me bipolar."

She smirked. "I'll keep an eye out." She slurped up a glob of grits like a frog gulping down an unsuspecting fly on a lily pad.

I crossed my legs as my body reacted to the sight.

Ibira smirked. "You really really don't want kids, do you?"

"No. But I do like green women with tusks."

She giggled. "You said that in a plural." She mockingly turned her head from side to side. "Do you see any others around?"

"No," I said, lowering my voice. "But if you find any, tell them they'll have to compete with the pretty one sitting in front of me."

She laughed, but her skin seemed to change color a bit.

"We...have another mission today."

I grinned in amusement at her sudden change of subject. "Okay?"

"We're going to try reclaiming the U.S. Bank facility."

I paled. "Are you sure that's a good idea?"

She nodded. "Dino has been kind enough to do surveillance on the area while you were sleeping."

Judging by the pee, I could only assume they'd placed him back on my bed when they had finished.

I stared at her in surprise. "Was he cooperative?"

She smiled. "Very. It seems he has become just as attached to me as it had been to you. I guess it thinks I'm the mother...and you're the father."

I blushed.

Chuckling, she added, "Or possibly male and female pack leaders."

I figured it was probably the latter, but I wasn't sure. "Well, I'm glad this is working out. I'd really like to go home sometime."

"As would I."

With a smile, I picked up ,my dishes, taking them to Osmifa to be cleaned.

"You two seem very close," she said as she dropped the silverware into the dish pan.

"Yeah," I replied. "I really like her."

"How close are you?"

I scrunched up my face. What right of hers was it to ask?

Okay, so she took me to that church the other night. We kind of had that Christian thing going, so I kind of had to trust her a little with things like this. I think you call it `accountability.' "We're friends. We kissed. That's about it. Why?"

"So you have not had sexual intercourse."

This was going too far. Nobody at any earth church would ever ask a person that question unless they sought someone for help in a related matter.

But then, you know, I had to wonder if God were trying to say through her.

Red in the face, I blurted "No."

"Do you intend to?"

I shrugged. "The thought had crossed my mind once or twice."

"Please tell me you will wait for marriage."

I swallowed and nodded. "Like I told you before, we read from the same book. I know fornication is a sin."

I returned to the table.

"What was that about?" Ibira asked.

"Nothing," I stammered. "Just..." I wasn't even sure I wanted to say it.

Often I worried that the other person's morality was worse than my own, when it ended up being worse the other way around. In other words, in my imagination, me spending alone time with a cute girl in a house by ourselves means getting naked, but in real life it probably means busting out the vacuum cleaner and joining her boyfriend in scrubbing out the spare room so her grandma can move in.

I sighed. "So when are we leaving on this trip?"

She shrugged both shoulders. "Not sure. It's best if you resume your normal work until then."

"Nothing in this place is normal," I muttered.

I glanced back and forth conspiratorially, dropping my voice to a whisper. "Is it really true that the client requires us to wear crotch vibrators?"

She seemed unsurprised. "Technically, yes. But they had it mistranslated. Zitadeebi means `excited, energetic, frustrated, and pleased. Senior management interpreted this to mean sexually aroused but not satisfied whenever the customer calls in. The client modified the terms a few years ago, explaining that they really just wanted agents alert and eagerly paying attention to the customer, but that was after more than two years of the eggs."

I swallowed. "Eggs?"

"Yes, eggs. They were black, oval, slightly smaller than the grade A eggs you humans buy in grocery stores, and on the exterior they had a sort of fin that stuck securely in the reproductive organs of human females. I tried it once, but it wouldn't work like they wanted, so they got me a collar."

"That's crazy."

"Indeed," she nodded. "There were females who intentionally hung up in order to get multiple calls, others who quit due to either the embarrassment or random customers prank calling us with devices that caused the eggs to go off any time they felt like it. Others got fired for their lewd conduct, or running off with the customer."

I grimaced, rubbing my eyes as if trying to wipe the visuals away. But, to be honest, I found the male counterpart more revolting. "That's...sick."

She read the time from a watch attached to her harness. "When does your shift start?"

"Shit!" In a panic, I hurried off to the call center.


	56. Chapter 57: Pig Latin

Author's note: The last scene in the previous chapter was moved into a later section here to avoid confusion. As I was typing up my shorthand notes, I discovered that they were out of order, so I fixed it.

* * *

><p>I'm a genius, Brian thought. A fucking genius.<p>

While playing around with the control panel and changing the desktop pattern, he had stumbled over one of the Internet Options panel, and found an icon telling him the Ethernet cable was disconnected.

Lo and behold, he had seen such a cable on the ground outside, and he knew what it was used for.

Following this, even more fortuitously, he had uncovered a small satellite transmitter buried inside a box filled with a spaghetti tangle of wires, plugs and cables, and to his surprise, it actually worked. After experimenting with it for about a half hour, he was staring at his obituary on the company file sharing system.

He could barely recognize the person being described there.

Flattering, sanitized, mostly a resume.

His "loving" ex wife had been briefly mentioned, as well as his golf achievements.

Friends were mentioned, but not listed.

He didn't care for the so-called "pastor" ruining the service, either. Such a butt kisser, he thought. No backbone whatsoever.

He wept for a moment when he thought about what he lost.

After regaining his composure, and wiping his dripping snot on a nearby uniform, he typed in his login ID, and, to his surprise, it actually worked.

* * *

><p>"What the fuck?" Sam laughed as he stared at a nearby computer monitor. "What is this shit?"<p>

He glanced over at his companion. "Victor, did you make this?"

The midget hopped over to the computer, staring at the image. "What's this?"

"Fuck if I know."

Victor stared at the bar at the bottom of the video. "Holy shit. It's almost an entire hour."

"Is he just going to sit there and snort for fifty minutes, or what?"

"I don't know," Sam shrugged. "I've never seen it before."

"I can't tell what it's saying, but it sure as hell wins the prize for Most Intelligent Pig."

"Is that really Brian's tie?" Sam asked as the creature pointed to it repeatedly.

Victor furrowed his brow. "Maybe it killed him."

"You think it ate his brain?"

"You need to stop watching those shitty B-movies. The only thing that eating a brain will do to you is give you a horrible disease."

Sam squinted at the pig's backdrop. "Isn' t that the garage at Hell's Gate?"

"It does kinda look like it..."

"Should we go over there and tell him to leave again?"

Victor shook his head. "Let's leave him alone. It's entertaining. Maybe we'll learn something."

"Are you sure that's such a good idea? I mean, what if it's a threat?"

"Think about it, Sam. When's the last time you threatened someone by crying into a camera?"

"Maybe it's like that decapitation video during the Iraq war," Sam suggested.

"Yeah. And they'd just let him sob and moan for forty minutes uninterrupted."

"Longer attention spans?"

Victor rolled his eyes. "Please. It's probably a sermon about the nature goddess or something."

"So just let him go?"

"Yeah."

"What about the system breach?"

"I'd say restrict whatever access he has so he can't destroy anything and let him play with the camera. Who knows? Maybe he'll put on a puppet show or something."

Sam frowned. "This could take up a lot of space."

"Then burn a DVD! When this guy breaks out the tap shoes, I want in my film library alongside The Hangover and Kamwediv Tiammox Nudecomedy 2."

* * *

><p>"I know what you did," said a voice in Brian's head. "But they ain't gonna understand shit. To them, you're nothing more than a grunting pig who somehow evolved a big enough brain to use a computer."<p>

Brian thought about threatening back, but then he just sighed. He didn't have anything to back those threats up anyway.

"That's right. Why don't you just scurry along to the village to eat termites with the others?"

Brian refused to acknowledge that with a reply.

"Hey, I'm only trying to make the rest of your miserable existence as comfortable as possible. But if you don't want to listen, fine. I can be a hard ass, too.

"But hey, you know I'm not a total bastard. I'm going to give you some advance warning about what's going to happen next.

"I have an ambush set up around that little bank building of yours. If your friends even try to re-establish a base of operations there, I'll send everything I've got against them and I mean, everything. I'm going to give you seventy two hours to turn them around and send them home, or there's going to be blood on your hands."

The voice stopped talking, and for a minute, Brian wondered if he had lost his sanity.

However, the guy was obviously in charge of the planet, and Brian was only renting the body, so brain microphones weren't entirely outside the realm of possibility.

With a growl of determination, he marched out of the building, running down a flattened path marked with old tire depressions in the direction of the tiny square cube in the distance.

* * *

><p>The first thing I discovered when I arrived at the `floor' was that I wasn't late. In fact, I was a bit early. Either Ibira's watch was about ten minutes fast, or she was embarrassed and wanted some space. Of course, that kind of modesty seemed a little out of character for her.<p>

The second thing I found out was that it takes Dennis time to build up enough bullshit to make a proper tidal wave to overpower me with. Just because I had a brief reprieve from criticism for half a day didn't mean I didn't do anything at all right, it just meant he was holding back.

And so now I stood with him in his office drum, reviewing calls.

As I stared at the holographic recording of me talking to a man in a plastic jumpsuit, I frowned, feeling like a little girl who had muddied her best Sunday school dress, on camera.

I stared at the hologram of myself as I spoke to the customer about his credit card bill, flinching as his manager unloaded his first damning comment.

"Right away, I can see how your calls could be made shorter. Don't slouch. Stop slouching. I've noticed this in a number of your calls. When people see you slouching, they think that you're lazy, that you don't care, or that you don't have self confidence. That nonverbal cue alone tends to make your handle time skyrocket."

Great, I thought with a sigh. More tips from Goldicks Charm School.

"And then here," he was saying as we watched more of the call. " You called for a supervisor when you had the answer right in front of you."

He pointed at a box in front of holographic me. "You were looking right at it!" His voice now sounded like he were suppressing screams of rage. "The customer wanted a rate reduction on a new line of credit. He qualified. It was right there! You had it! You look right at it, and you said you didn't know."

"But I didn't!"

"Jason. It was right there." He jabbed a finger at a box. "Right there. You had it." He was using the tone of an annoyed sports fan seeing a player fumbling the game winning play.

The customer hadn't paid in a long time, but he had received a message saying that he had received an offer from our company for a new line of credit with a zero percent interest rate for six months. Anyone with half a brain would even consider offering a customer something like that after looking at such a lousy payment history.

We're not talking about some hardship plan designed to reduce or consolidate the customer's bills. We're talking about giving the customer hanging from the gallows an extra rope around the neck. I'm pretty sure Spock's head would have exploded from the illogic.

"But that would have cost us money!"

"Jason. You weren't supposed to go into full collections efforts on this call. It was a regular credit call."

"I didn't know that, okay? I didn't know it was supposed to be both collections and customer service at the same time."

"You're not, Jason," Dennis sighed. "You know better than that. You're supposed to do collections when a collections call comes up, and customer service when customer service comes up."

I was so mad I could practically see smoke rising from my face. "C'mon. How do I tell the difference between customer service and collections calls when I had to do both? How do I tell between customer service and collections when I had to do both? I mean, the account was ninety days past due. It made no sense to offer him any credit!"

"You know the answer. It's in Knowledge Center. Must I spell it out to you?"

I hadn't even glanced at the topic in their cute little excuse for an information database, but I doubted it would provide any sort of explanation that would make sense.

Therefore, I told Dennis, "Yes."

Dennis sighed. "You're not fooling anyone, Jason. You and I both know what needs to be done, and what's expected from you when you're performing this job, and your not offering that customer a line of credit cost us money."

I shook my head in frustration.

"You're shaking your head. Am I wrong?"

"No, no."

"Talk to me, Jason. What's wrong? What are you having trouble with? I'm here to help you, but you have to open up to me."

Maybe you should be wearing the dress, I thought. "I'm okay."

"Look me in the eye when you're saying that."

I forced myself to comply. "You're right," I sighed. "I can do this the way you ask."

This unfortunate choice of words resulted in a lengthy lecture about how it's not what Dennis wanted or what Jason wanted, but what the company, and vicariously the customer wanted, and that's what really mattered.

I agreed my way through that shitstorm, at last stammering, "I'm fine."

"You're sure."

I nodded my head vigorously. "Yes, yes. I'm sure."

"Because if you're not, I want you to tell me."

"No, I'm sure." I reddened. "I'm sorry. I'll try to pitch the sale next time. It won't happen again."

Dennis then sped to the hologram at the end of the cal.

"Thanks for calling DOGOS," I heard myself saying, then a mumble because I felt like I had to say something, anything, but I had already said everything I was required to say, and was out of ammunition and didn't want to risk repeating myself.

It was basically a dismissive "all right" or "thanks" after thanking the customer for the third time, or a redundant thanks or "bye" sound, but I hadn't felt like fully annunciating the whole thing because it wasn't required. I really did it out of a nervous habit more than anything, and it was something I did unconsciously.

"What's that? What did you say there?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. It's just a tic. I have a bit of Tourettes. It comes out sometimes."

Dennis sighed. "Jason, you need to tell me these things. You've got to open up to me if you want me to help you."

What? And reveal my weaknesses to a man whose only hobby is finding them? I didn't acknowledge that statement with a reply.

I agreed myself out of the man's cubicle, and I was allowed to resume my work.

Only a half an hour later did I at last make the connection between extending credit and laying off the collections attempts. The ones that allowed that crazy combination just happened to have a special symbol on their customer file saying that slavery is permitted on their planet.

* * *

><p>For some reason, the `goddess' had decided to help him. He couldn't make his vocal cords make the "bad" and "danger" sounds, let alone the long sentence about leaving, but he was grateful for a chance to at least attempt to warn them in a language they understood.<p>

His first communication had apparently failed, so now he commenced work on Plan B.

After digging around in the base for half an hour, he found a small chalkboard, with chalk, and Na'vi Sesame Street was born.

It was the only way he could think of to make himself understood. All of his articulation apparently hadn't helped in the slightest.

The only thing that would help now would be a language lesson.

And so he carefully scrawled the letter A on the chalkboard, making the sound that represented that letter twice.

Then B, and C, and so on until he had reached the letter Z.

After this came the difficult task of laying down the basic words that he used the most. A sort of dictionary.

Fortunately, he found a way to play back his old video as he was recording, and he gave a lesson on that.

Well, at least the important stuff. He seriously considered using puppets, but there weren't any available.

* * *

><p>The truck and the hummer were parked in a vehicle bay at the far end of the DOGOS complex, a drab little structure crammed with tools and a fair amount of car repair equipment.<p>

The midget lay on a sliding board beneath the engine of the F-150, wincing as grease splattered him in the face. He grunted as he twisted a part into place with a socket wrench.

"You got it in there yet?" Snaker called from the driver's seat.

"Hold your horses!" Victor yelled.

Suddenly someone was shoving a Kindle in his face, causing him to bang his head in surprise.

"Hey boss! Check out this video!"

Cursing under his breath, he grabbed the device with one filthy hand. "What! Another?"

He pushed himself out.

"Is it in there now?" Snaker repeated.

"Almost!" Victor snapped. "Just hold it a damn minute! I've got some...intel!"

Snaker did not seem impressed. "Is that a fact."

"Shut up." He pushed the play button.

"Wilbur's been busy," Sam grinned. "In this one he teaches us the alphabet in pig Latin."

"How did you know his name was Wilbur?"

"I don't. Haven't you read Charlotte's Web?"

Victor groaned.

He quietly stared at the screen as the pig snorted once and drew a giant letter A on a chalkboard. After making a slightly different snort, it wrote B.

"I would have preferred puppets," Victor grumbled.

"Well now we've got an alphabet!"

"Skip to Z, please."

Sam shrugged, moving the timeline ahead a few steps. "You're getting this thing all grimy."

"Tough titty. Clean it with some Windex."

After erasing the letter Z, the pig held up a piece of paper reading "BRIAN", pointing to itself as it snorted.

"What the fuck?"

Sam paused the video. "It thinks its name is Brian."

"Are you sure it's not something alien like "Bar-Yan?"

Sam frowned. "He's wearing Brian's tie."

"Some tribal cultures think that you absorb a person's soul by eating them."

Sam had no reply to this, still too shocked by what he saw.

He pushed play and the pig held up a sequence of signs that spelled out "danger."

The next ones read "ambush", "big" and "building."

He held up a photograph of a familiar looking glass and concrete structure with a giant sign reading "U.S. BANK" affixed to the upper storey.

The pig shook his head while pointing to the word "NO" on the chalkboard.

Sam fast forwarded the video.

"More. Help. Can't. I. Goddess. Mind. Read," Sam read.

And then the pig oinked for a few minutes without writing anything.

"I guess that's the end of the lesson," Sam muttered.

But then the pig wrote a different series of words.

"Avoid. The. Fungus. Fatal. Destroy. Head."

Victor frowned as he noticed Snaker leaning over his shoulder. "Do you mind?"

"Yes I do," he replied. "Is this supposed to be Brian?"

Victor waved the question away. "Shhh!" He glanced at Sam. "So he killed Brian to prevent a fungal infection?"

Sam shrugged. "Sal did mention something about a fungus. Of course, he could have also smashed Brian's head with a rock. But why would you eat a corpse if you knew it's carrying a deadly fungus?"

"Maybe he's just crazy and thinks he is Brian. Who knows what they can do with those hair cords."

"That is a thought. If the guy's got an infection, the pig's probably got it. Because it's probably already fucked with his brain."

"And we've been breathing the same cyanide this whole time," Victor growled. "If I so much as get a differently colored foot fungus, I'm going to kill him."

"There's more," said Sam. "`I love you guys,'" he read. "Don't let that bitch kill you. I'm talking about the goddess, not my ex wife.'"

Victor shuddered. "Damn that's creepy."

"`I miss you Sally. I wish circumstances could be different. I'd be happy just to hear your voice again. You have always been my friend.'"

The pig broke down in tears, and the video ended.

For an entire minutes, neither Sam nor Victor said anything, they just stared at the screen.

"Damn, dawg," Snaker muttered. "That shit is wack."

"You know, " said Sam. "I never believed in reincarnation, but this is definitely making me wonder."

Victor shook his head. "I don't buy into all that, but it does make me wonder how much of the Avatar Program was actually a failure."

"What are we going to do, boss? The guy said there's going to be an ambush, and we're down two team members."

"More like one and a half," Victor muttered. "Besides, he didn't say how big it was going to be. It could be anything from an army to five guys."

He opened a combination lock on a locker, pulling out a machine gun.

He slammed a clip into the chamber. "I think this will cover it." He paused. "On, and see if that crew cut guy in the med lab has recovered from his implant. Keith, I think that's his name."

"No need," Sam muttered, pointing to the doorway.

A short haired, gangly looking white guy with a thin beard stared at them.

"Cool! I haven't fired one of those since Desert Storm!"

* * *

><p>To my relief, I got excused from phone detail for the rest of the day.<p>

Comfortably dressed in a polo shirt and jeans, I sat in the back seat of the Hummer with Ibira. We stared out the window, gazing at the weird plants passing by, then gazed at each other, smiling as we held hands.

While I had been busy doing calls, the team had fixed up the vehicle somewhat. The windows had been replaced with Plexiglas and metal bars aligned in a close knit pattern resembling that of chain mail. The interior had been patched up, the damaged seats upholstered with blankets affixed with steel thread. It looked somewhat nice.

Hearing an odd sucking sound amid the jangling of the chain mail, I stared out the window, watching as a mass of golden flowers retreated, anemone-like, inside the trunks of jungle trees as we passed.

We had left while it was light, but we hadn't counted on the weather conditions. The day was overcast, seemingly ready to storm.

"I'll be glad when this is over," I sighed as I stared out the front window."

"Agreed," said my companion. "I miss the old facility."

An awkward silence followed, one where I found her staring back at me in silence, as if bothered by something.

"You know," I ventured. "Osmifa suggested that I invite you to the church sometime. I was wondering if you'd be interested."

She looked flustered. "I'm sorry. I'm not ready for that yet."

Silence.

"What else did she suggest?"

I sighed. "Nothing I agreed to."

"She...doesn't share your faith?"

"Oh she does. It was something else."

"May I inquire further?"

I cleared my throat. "I told her I was taken. She tried to convince me to stop dating you."

I felt her tusks sliding around my neck, her warm mouth pressing against my skin. "We'll have to show her now, won't we?"

I swallowed. "Well, as long as we're doing it..." Realizing the faux pas, I blurted, "_Things_, out of, um, love, and not to prove a point."

"I can live with that!"

"So..." I awkwardly muttered in her face. "Has...uh, Rick ever talked with you or anything after our game?"

She shrugged. "Once or twice. But I get the impression he isn't interested in me."

"That's good."

She stared at me. "Well, good for me."

She laughed.

"What about Snaker? Did you talk to him any?"

"You're the only one that's interested. I think...they're both too afraid of trying new things."

"I'm not sure about that, but I'm glad nothing happened."

Our lips touched.

The vehicle suddenly skidded to a stop, leaving me with a pair of tusks awkwardly stuck through the fabric of my polo shirt.

Ibira giggled as she pulled away. "How unfortunately suggestive!"

"I would have preferred lipstick stains, but this is nice, too."

"I can wear lipstick," she grinned.

I shook my head. "Why are we stopping? What's in the road?"

"I don't know," she laughed. "I had my face stuck in your shirt."

When we got out, we saw the Na'vi with the tie gesticulating wildly at us, letting out a whole variety of oinking sounds.

I marched up to the midget, filled with curiosity. "What's it saying?"

Victor shrugged. "Beats the hell out of me. It keeps pointing and waving for us to turn around, but the only thing I'm getting out of it is `bad,' and `no' and `danger.'"

I tapped Ibira on the shoulder. "I thought our...Babelfish earwig things were supposed to translate anything."

She shrugged. "Our Jandax are designed to translate the languages of commerce. They haven't had enough exposure to the Na'vi language to do a good translation."

"In the movie, people did tons of research on their language. Was that wrong?"

"Yes. In addition to depicting them all with feline characteristics, they misunderstand the intelligence level of the culture. Ordinarily the Na'vi just oink and try to kill us. We thought it pointless as trying to translate the language of an actual pig. This is the first time we've seen one attempting intelligent discourse. Unfortunately, we need more exposure to its language for it to work properly."

"What about that translation they did in the movie?"

"You know that guy that works in the med lab?"

"Nobdar?"

She nodded. "His is the language we researched. His people attempted to build a base on this planet, but the Na'vi leveled the installment to the ground and murdered everyone on the premises."

"We're not turning around," Sam said to the creature. "We already know it's dangerous. We'll be careful, okay?"

The pig shook its head. "Unh uh. You must leave the planet or you will all die."

"What?"

The pig did not repeat the statement. It only clapped its paws over its mouth in surprise.

Sam pulled a gun on it. "I don't take kindly to threats, sir."

The pig raised its paws in surrender, making pitiful whimpering noises.

"Now either help us, or you can get out of the way."

The creature sighed, stepping aside from the path.

"Bad!" it cried. "Danger!"

And it slunk away like a beaten dog.

"How strange," Ibira remarked.

"Hey!" Sam shouted after it. "Come back with some recon!"


	57. Chapter 58: US Bank

Recon, Brian thought. Right. There's a thing in my brain that can see everything, and you want me to search the area and give a report. He'll just change it.

And so he did the only thing he figured he could do any good.

He marched back to Hell's Gate.

* * *

><p>After an hour of riding silently in the back seat, I felt Ibira's body pressing against me, her head nuzzling into a comfortable position on my shoulder as she made relaxed purring sounds.<p>

Her eyes closed, and she was making soft pigeon-like cooing sounds in my ear.

Feeling drowsy myself, I returned the gesture, resting my head on her shoulder.

"The recordings from Dino didn't show any signs of an ambush," I heard the midget say as the vehicle bumped along the dirt road.

"Who's Dino?" said the buzz cut guy in the seat behind me.

I felt a hand settling around my upper thigh. I shot Ibira an uncomfortable glance, but she just gave me a smile that seemed to say, "Do you really mind it that much?"

I pointed my eyes at the small figure leaning over the front passenger seat, nodding that way.

She didn't care.

Victor gave me a look of disgust, like he'd just seen his grandmother naked, quickly directing his attention to the guy behind me. "We've converted an Ikran into a spy drone. You can use an X-Box controller to move it around. We've even been able to make it shit when you press a button. But we haven't figured out how to make it attack yet."

Keith laughed. "Whenever you're done with that thing, I have an entire list of people I'd like to dive bomb."

His mirthful expression dropped when he glanced out the window. "Holy hell."

I looked that way and found a giant hammerhead creature with glowing red eyes staring back at me through the gloom. A chill ran down my spine. "Victor..."

The little guy said nothing.

When I glanced out the window again, I saw a dark hairy shape with glowing eyes staring back at me.

"Look!" I shouted, elbowing my girlfriend.

Ibira didn't turn from her window. "Are you seeing animals too?"

"Yeah?"

I stared in astonishment as one of the giant Triceratops-like things settled itself down behind one of the wolf things, glowing eyes eerily fixing on mine. "What are they doing?"

"I don't know. They're like statues."

As the Hummer rolled onward, the creatures quietly slunk away.

"Iss wants us to leave," Ibira whispered, making a sign over her chest.

"Or maybe Satan," I shrugged.

"You really think so?"

"I..." I stammered. "I believe Satan tries very hard to convince people that he doesn't exist, so this wouldn't be his style. Unless he intends to kill us."

"Now that's a comforting thought."

"I don't know how to say this politely, but you were talking about this being a sign of your goddess. Are you going to bail?"

"What?"

"If this mission is against your religion, Ibira, I'd understand completely if you bailed."

"I'm not going to. Are you?"

I swallowed. "No."

"Why do you think I'd bail?"

"I thought that this was against your religion or something because you saw a sign of Iss."

"I'm not a good Erdemba." Noting my blank expression, she added, "Follower of my faith. Plus, I'm sure it's not a sign of Iss. My religious texts don't tell me how much influence Iss has over worlds she doesn't reside in. I don't know who regulates nature here."

We silently stared out the front window, watching as the small square object in the distance steadily increased in size.

Keith let out a nervous laugh. "Are you sure we should be blindly plowing up the main road like nothing's the matter? You did say there was an ambush, right?"

"The pig video warned us about the goddess," Sam muttered. "If I'm not mistaken, she seems a little ticked."

"I'm pretty sure they're expecting us to come up the main road," I said.

Victor tapped Steve on the shoulder. "Let's cut through the brush! Turn right! Now!"

That nearly flipped the vehicle.

I came within inches of being gored in the face with Ibira's horns. I was glad I and Ibira had seatbelts on.

The Hummer splashed through a small pond, rolling effortlessly out of its accompanying mud hole to a grassy mound peppered with plants that looked like headless cobras.

The moment we crossed this mound, turning in the direction of the tiny gray box in the distance, ten blue bodies jumped out of the foliage, pelting the Hummer with rocks and arrows.

"Run them over!" Keith yelled.

The idea worked on two of them, but then the pigs fire bombed the front windows so we couldn't see where we were going.

Keith got up, slapping a cartridge into his machine gun. "Open the roof!" he shouted. "I got this!"

During my absence, someone had covered the sheet of broken glass in the Hummer's ceiling with a piece of steel. I soon discovered that, with the touch of a button, the steel could retract, just like a normal sunroof.

I watched nervously as Keith climbed to the top of my chair, sticking his head and arms halfway out the opening as he picked off a handful of blue boar's heads with blasts of automatic fire.

"Damn that felt good," he remarked.

His celebration was cut short by an arrow burying itself in his back., the sharp end projecting red and bloody from his chest.

Coughing up blood, he knocked off two more pigs before falling back into the vehicle.

It seemed the arrow had pierced his heart, and he was rapidly bleeding out, the inadvertent jostling on the way down increasing the damage, making matters worse.

"Keith!" Victor shouted, jumping into the back seat. "Shut the roof!"

And then I saw the midget kneeling, no, standing next to him. "Keith! Are you all right!"

Keith grinned weakly at the stupid question. "Fuck, man. What does it look like?" And he coughed up blood.

"Shit," he gasped. "I was better off as a phone monkey."

And then he slumped over dead.

Steve turned the wheels and hit the accelerator, plowing through a pair of our attackers.

We kept going.

As we came closer to the structure, I could see the vegetation disappear, and a wall of glass and concrete loomed into view.

My mouth fell open in shock at the sight of this skyscraper standing in an island of pavement serving as its parking lot, the fenced in smoker's lounge, the shiny revolving glass door.

"The shield generators must be still in operation," Ibira remarked. "Most of the windows are still intact."

The Hummer turned into a parking area behind the smoking enclosure, double parking on the left side of the building.

We got out, walking up the sidewalk along the front side of the building.

Hearing squawking sounds, I stared upwards at the top of the building. "Are those birds?"

Ibira rolled her eyes. "What do you think."

I squinted and and saw a crowd of avian shapes. "They look like pelicans."

"Pelicans that pee on you, perhaps."

"Oh."

We approached the shiny visitor entrance, pushing experimentally on the revolving door. It didn't budge for a moment, but then Victor rammed a screwdriver into a lock on the corner and it groaned into action after he gave it a heavy shove.


	58. Chapter 59: Sweep

As I stepped out the revolving glass door, my eyes widened in amazement as I took in the sight of the lobby.

What a huge waste of money, I thought.

Fine brown wooden paneling, at very least a simulation of oak or other premium woods.

A semicircular security desk with a polished granite counter.

Luxurious leather chairs with granite coffee tables for the guests nearby.

A fancy marble and steel staircase framed by artificial plants and an ATM machine.

I could see a row of doors behind the stair, presumably leading to offices or board rooms.

The high ceiling brought the impression of lightness, the lavish interior and granite implying weight.

The only thing amiss was the lack of light. It came only from the doorway and windows.

Ibira seemed to be amused at my gawking. "Pretty nice, huh?"

"Yeah. Wow. This place looks like it has plenty of money to throw around."

"I believe that was the architect's intention. Of course, there is something to be said for fees and interest charges."

I watched as Victor waddled behind the security desk, poking around in the drawers.

He opened a mini fridge below the surveillance equipment.

"The power's out," said Sam. "I'm pretty sure whatever's in it is flat or spoiled anyway."

Instead of replying, Victor just reached inside, throwing everything out on the floor, soda, water bottles, a cheesecake tray, a box of breadsticks, and a soiled paper bag, following it up with all the shelves.

"Uh, I think they hire janitors for that," I said.

Instead of replying, the midget yanked out a shelf, tossing it on the pile.

"You want me to find some Lysol? Maybe some rags?"

"Shut up. I'm looking for something."

Victor tossed a white panel on the floor. It looked pretty much like the panel you'd see in the back of a fridge, but it looked a bit funny on the reverse side.

"Are you looking for cooling coils?"

Instead of replying, Victor punched something inside the fridge, and I heard a series of beeping sounds.

I stopped joking, staring as he came out clutching a narrow glowing monitor.

"Holy shit!" Sam laughed with glee, clapping his hands. "What else do you got in there? Laser cufflinks?"

He leaned in closer to get a better look. "Wait. How does that thing even have power?"

"It's powered by a Qurozaf Tri-9 C. Battery life is up to three years on low power."

He pushed some buttons on the monitor, and it came to life, displaying a floor plan.

"What are we looking at, then?"

"It's the forcefield generator system. It's telling me that the front end units were damaged beyond repair during the attack."

"They left the glass?"

"The bank had all its forces holed up at this end, so it still looks clean, which is sad because the came in through a breach in the wall a few yards down from here."

"I didn't see any," I muttered.

"It's inside the butt hut," Sam muttered.

Ibira glanced at me in confusion.

"Smoking area," I said.

"Oh yes. I forgot they called it that."

"Whoever coined that term is a moron," Victor muttered.

"Is there any way to fix those shields?" Sam asked.

"I don't think so. The Holtzman Field Generator is of Geidian manufacture. There's a lot of parts we don't have at the base, including an Axquibin unit. If we could somehow find the necessary parts here, we'd have a chance.

"But in case we can't, we'll need to board up some windows or block off some rooms."

"I hate to tell you this, but some of these rooms have ceiling to floor windows."

"So we block off the rooms."

"Um, that's a nice idea, but I seem to remember the second and third floor windows being mostly one big office with glass windows."

Victor sighed. "Dammit. Look. We'll cross that bridge when we come to it. The goal now is just get the power on, sweeping the place of enemy combatants and looking to see if there's any shield components lying around."

He pointed at a hallway. "You go look that way. I'll go down the other way."

He pointed at the stairs. "Ibira and Jason. Go check the upper floors. I'll go down the hall and look for the generator."

"Yes sir," Sam said.

Ibira smiled, giving Victor a nod. "With pleasure."

I followed Ibira past the shiny brass elevators, climbing the bottommost rung of the spiral but angular arrangement of stairs. Since it was dark, Ibira and I had flashlights, shining the beams on the fake marble and polished wood paneling

"It's been a long time since I've been up here," she said. "It feels like I'm home."

I stared up at the dark shapes fluttering around on the skylight four floors above. "Did they say the roof was shielded?"

She shrugged. "I don't know."

I followed her onto a landing, and we strolled between a row of file cabinets into an office.

It looked like the kind of office you'd find on earth. No sign of anything alien anywhere. I couldn't figure it out.

"The fraud department,"she said, marching past the `bridge' station. "These offices are so identical in their floor plan that I once walked into the wrong office and thought I had been fired because I couldn't find my desk."

I laughed, watching as she walked from desk to desk, searching the drawers and areas beneath the chairs.

"Why doesn't this place have those drums like our office?"

"Different policies," she shrugged.

We wandered through a cluster of lockers, passing by row upon row of cubicles overlooking a vast view of the surrounding countryside. Majestic hills, mountains and a thin ribbon of a river cut through the field beyond.

Ibira marched up to the "bridge" station, a set of consoles that would have displayed a never ending series of waiting customers, had the power been on. It stood on an elevated concrete rise, offering a commanding view of the room, which probably once involved row upon row of hapless peons struggling to achieve high customer service ratings.

She opened the cabinets, stared inside for a moment, then closed them again.

"Feeling better?" she asked me.

I stared at her blankly. "I'm sorry?"

"About the Na'vi being removed from your brain."

"Oh!" I smiled. "Tons. I mean, I feel sorry for him, kind of, because we had that connection, but now I'm happy to have my head clear. It was geting crowded in there."

I thought I loved her before, but now I was absolutely certain.

After checking both restrooms, a foul smell hit our nostrils. We looked around for it for a few moments until we came across a body.

A fat brown body in a striped shirt.

The victim was a heavy set hispanic man in a striped polo shirt. His skull appeared to have been bashed in with a blunt object, his shiny black hair caked with dried blood.

Ibira sucked in her breath in shock. "That is Joe Guzman! He is a customer service manager for US Bank!"

"Was," I mutered.

The corpse was a sea of disgusting earth and alien maggots, a sensory experience that so overwhelmed me that I bolted into the bathroom to throw up, even though I doubted the plumbing would work.

The sinks were all automatic, and so was the flusher, but the toilet had an emergency push button, and I discovered an actual sink with handles in a nearby break area to wash my hands and face with.

When I came back, I found Ibira talking on the radio. "I can confirm that this is Joe Guzman. What can we do with this? I don't really want to touch it."

Long radio silence.

"Just shut the door. We'll get someone to take care of it later."

"Shouldn't we keep it open so it ventilates?" said Sam's voice.

"Oh yeah, and make the whole office smell like a bloated rotting corpse. Wow. That's a great idea."

And so we closed the door, continuing our search.

"Did you throw up?" Ibira said as she pulled open a desk drawer.

I frowned. "Yeah. Sorry."

She tossed me some Listerine. "Here. I don't want to kiss a mouth that tastes like vomit."

I laughed.

"It's not funny. Go find a sink and rinse."

And so I did.

"I take it you weren't close to Mr. Guzman," I said when I returned.

"No. He was my boss." My girlfriend pulled open a panel on a Xerox machine, yanking out little odds and ends from its inner workings. She stuck the things, along with the stuff she'd rummaged from the various desks, into a large box formerly used to hold used copy paper.

"Hmmm."

"Don't get me wrong. I'm not happy he's dead. But I don't have any attachment to him, either. I only feel sorry for him. His death was terrible and undignified."

She sighed, hefting the box over her shoulder. "I'm trying not to think about it. Let's go downstairs. I think we're done here anyway."

We met Victor at the other end of the room. Apparently he was going for a visual confirmation of the corpse.

Ibira handed him the box. "I'd like to take these items back. Also, I believe some components of the machine upstairs may be of use in fixing the shield equipment."

"I hope so," he muttered as he stared at them. He frowned. "You really think this thing will work with Xerox parts?"

"The design is similar."

He sighed. "I guess anything is worth a shot at this point." He set it down on a roller chair.

"Jason and I have thoroughly checked the left wing," Ibira said with an uncharacteristically eager tone. "If you need us, we will be sweeping the right side and the back hallway for survivors."

Victor nodded. "Good luck. I somehow doubt we'll find any."

And so I followed my girlfriend up the hall, poking in various doors to check for life.

We found a body in an office that made Ibira suck in her breath, but we found the other rooms empty, devoid of life, even the hostile kind.

As we reached a corner, Ibira's movements became hurried.

"What's the rush?" I said.

"I do not think we will find anyone else," she whispered. "But there is something I wish to show you."

Further on down, we arrived at a fork where one end turned around, cutting through another row of cubicles, while the other turned into a gray hallway lined with four doors.

She pointed down the hallway. "Sleeping quarters. When we're stationed on earth, fake walls and pillars or other decoys are placed here to give the illusion that it's the end of the building."

"Wouldn't people wonder if they compare the floor plan to the outside?"

"There are many discrepancies in all architecture that few people ever care to examine."

She grabbed my hand, clutching it tightly. "Let's see if any of these rooms are occupied." Her tone of voice suddenly sounded eager, excited.

The first door on the left was a board room. The second, a room full of bunk beds. Soft silk enshrouded luxury bunk beds, not the cut rate beds he had at the other place.

A search of all four rooms revealed nothing of much import, no people, no useful tools, only drawers of clothing and expensive beds.

It was dark, but she turned a crank, and the room gradually filled with light from rows of globes set on the wall behind each bed.

"Neat!"

"Kinetic power," she said matter of factly. "Our facilities are more sophisticated than yours. Of course, we're backed by two powerful banks."

I smiled at her.

She responded with a wink and a low purring noise.

"Stay here," she said, marching up the hall.

After disappearing from view for a moment, she hurriedly ran back to me. "It's safe. I think we're alone."

I stared at her in bafflement. "I...I know we're alone, but what-"

And then I had a pair of tusks sliding up around my face, and she was kissing me, tugging on my polo while simultaneously sliding her hands under it, caressing my chest.

I pulled back. "Wait. What are you doing?"

"What does it look like?"

And she kissed me again.

We broke apart, and she dragged me back to one of the bedrooms. "This is the female sleeping quarters," she whispered. "Again, I ask you, may I examine your reproductive equipment?"

"I..." I stammered.

She pressed her tusks to my face, sliding them up around my cheeks. "They very much interest me."

I swallowed hard. "I..."

"Please," she breathed.


	59. Chapter 60: Probe

In a moment of weakness, I nodded and croaked, "Okay. Provided I can see yours."

Right. So if this were a human girl, I wouldn't have done it. But she was a space alien.

As a child and a young adult, I devoured books about alien abductions. I don't know, maybe that was the problem.

Read any of those books, or watch _Fire In The Sky_ or any of those other supposedly true stories, and what happens? Out of no fault of his own, the hero of the story ends up sitting naked inside the UFO, staring back at a similarly naked alien, you know, for purely scientific reasons.

I regret to say that I favored the stories about the "reds," the ones that have hair of red wherever they have hair, the ones whose interests are less than purely scientific.

At any rate, however unwise, this was my rationalization for letting her do what she wanted.

Yeah, not the greatest excuse, coming from someone who had just had his throat and tonsils licked clean, but I never said I was the model example of my faith.

Before I could think about it twice, two of her hands reached downwards, unbuckling my belt as her two other ones undid the button on my pants.

My zipper opened, and then my pants and underwear slid to the floor.

After this, my shirt came off, and she was leading me over to a bed.

Figuring it to be fair play, I grabbed at her harness, fumbling with the straps.

Her four arms guided my hands down the back, detaching it from her body. She let it fall to the floor.

And then we were sitting crosslegged on the mattress, admiring each other's naked bodies with mystified fascination and curious amusement.

Her lower region smelled like packing tape, wet dog, and burnt tortillas. The scent filled my nostrils, confusing my brain as I ogled her. From that moment forward, my body would do strange things whenever I approached a taco stand.

"Your musculature is lean but nicely developed," she said. "It reminds me of a young Bilwobi. A novice hunter."

"Uh...thanks," I muttered.

As I examined her reproductive organ, I trembled as her hands fingered mine.

"Oh, hello, little mushroom," she said as she toyed with it. "How peculiar. Look how it's stretching out when I touch it."

She looked up at me. "You _really do_ like me, don't you?"

I swallowed. "It wouldn't look like that if I didn't."

She laughed, playing with it some more. "Do you like to be stroked, little mushroom? Do you?"

My legs trembled as she ran the fingers of her other hands up and down my legs.

"Oooh. I think you do." she giggled.

Seeing it was only fair, I reached out to her body, running my fingers over the ribbed surface of the flaps surrounding the star shaped opening between her legs, causing her to involuntarily shudder and gasp in response.

"What do you call this thing?" I said, trying to keep my breathing steady as she continued to slide her fingers around my body.

"It's a -"

She let out a startled mewling sound as my finger slid through the opening.

"A noafwi," she cooed.

I pulled my hand away.

"It's okay, you can keep doing that if you want..."

She tapped my stiffening organ, correctly guessing the technical term for what it was called.

I frowned. "You already knew?"

She nodded. "How could I not know what one is? I overhear things. Your people are just as barbaric as mine. You would have heard plenty about noafwis if there were more of us."

I winced as she attempted to pull the organ out further than it would stretch.

I cleared my throat. "If you keep messing with it, it might go off."

She laughed. "So will mine. It will not be unpleasant."

"So, um," I stammered as a pair of hands squeezed my buttocks. "What did you mean by `it didn't work?'"

She gave my erection a playful flick. "Excuse me? What?"

"The egg," I said in a frustrated grunt. "You said they gave you a collar because it didn't work."

"Oh, it worked," she purred. "But it kept falling out. Not the right shape. It was too impractical for them to modify one for me, apparently."

"Did you...have to give it back?"

She nodded. "There's a fee for the replacement otherwise. Not sure what they did with it after that."

"Maybe they sterilized it and put it in a new package for someone else."

She removed her hands from my crotch. "That's disgusting!"

I shrugged. "Just a theory."

She grimaced. "You're probably right."

I poked my finger into the center of the flaps, pulling one back.

The moment I did this, Ibira spread her legs further apart, and a mass of wiggling brown-orange tentacles exploded from the opening.

I jerked back in fright. "Shit!"

The Qozisa only laughed, continuing to stroke me.

I fell off the bed, staring at her in horror.

"What's wrong?" she smiled. "It's only aroused!"

I shuddered in disgust.

She frowned at me. "Yours is shrinking and losing stiffness. Have I done something wrong?"

I couldn't respond for an entire minute. "N-no. It's just something I'm not used to, that's all."

She patted the mattress. "Come. Let us continue this pleasurable experience."

"Ibira!" I heard Victor shouting. "Jason!"

"Fuck!" I cried, diving for my clothing.

With my heart practically thundering in my throat, I threw my pants and shirt back on, pressing my back to the door frame as I peered around the corner.

"Must we?" Ibira protested.

"No fraternization," I said, forcing myself to be stern. "We got a job to do. Plus it was about to lead to something immoral."

She opened her mouth to say something.

I swallowed. "It's bad enough I let it get this far."

With a sigh, she fastened up her harness and loincloth strap. "We must discuss your morals in greater detail," she muttered, marching out.

I followed her into the hallway, my face turning the deepest shade of pink I have ever turned in my entire life.

She cleared her throat. "Perhaps we should continue our search while you try to decide what you want."

I swallowed. "Good idea."

I trailed her back to the staircase, noting that I did find her legs and rear end rather sexy as they moved from step to step.

We met the midget at the lower landing. He had a section of the formerly featureless wall opened, connecting wires to something inside.

When he heard me coming down the tile floor, he turned and frowned at us. "Did you find any equipment yet?"

"Only another corpse," Ibira muttered.

Victor sighed. "Dammit. I was hoping the equipment would be on that floor."

"You can look again," Ibira blurted. "We have not examined the contents of the file cabinets."

"Honestly, we didn't-" I started, but Ibira elbowed me in the ribs.

"We will continue our search and continue to the third floor."

The midget narrowed his eyes at me, like he suspected something.

With a flustered tone, Ibira said, "When you're done checking the second, you can go on to the fourth. We'll have the third covered."

Victor laughed. "I don't think I want to know how you'll have it covered."

I swallowed, wondering what he actually knew.

We returned to the Fraud department, giving it a more thorough search. In the background, we could hear Victor jamming a screwdriver in the file cabinet locks, cursing as they stubbornly refused to open.

The end of the floor looked identical to the first place, the only difference being the structure of the meeting room in the middle of the cubicle area.

"Clear," Ibira muttered, marching toward the staircase. "C'mon. Let's go."

She didn't bother to pull me along, so I had to race to keep up.


	60. Chapter 61: Closest Encounters

The upper floor looked virtually identical to the one we left, except it didn't have file cabinets lining the front entrance.

"Card member services," Ibira said. "This was where I worked for quite a number of years."

"Cool," I stammered, still reeling over the shock of what had just happened.

Attempting to re-establish communication with her, I blurted, "I still don't understand why aliens would want a card that says U.S. Bank on it. It's clearly credit from earth, specific only to America."

She sighed. "You'd be surprised. A number of customers appreciate the image of the humble, trustworthy, conservative bank. They like the old fashioned anonymous method of voice only communication, the policy of currency measurement, the concept of a slavery free loan."

She marched down an aisle of cubicles, rifling through one of the desk drawers while her other hands flipped over keyboards and turned around monitors to examine the undersides.

I checked the desks behind her.

"What did your god think about you taking off your clothes and fondling me?"

I was glad there wasn't anyone else there. She said it loudly enough for someone to hear her in the next row.

"I...don't know," I stammered. "That's different. It's like...those abduction stories where they're naked with a naked alien. It's scientific curiosity. I figured it was just like picking up a dog and examining its genitals."

"Wow," she frowned. "How romantic."

"That's not what I meant." I swallowed, fumbling for the right words.

"If you don't like me, you can just say so."

"That's just it, Ibira," I practically stuttered. "That's the problem. It's no longer like that." I shook my head. "I'm not trying to insult you, I'm just trying to explain what I'm feeling. Honestly. I thought it was like, you know, studying a rabbit's private parts or something. Scientific like."

She put one right hand on her hips, the other right hand on the side of her stomach, regarding me with a sour expression.

I tried again. "The point is. I thought it was going to be an objective thing."

She twisted her lip, narrowing her eyes at me in a way that caused the color to drain from my face.

"The point is that it's not a matter of scientific inquiry anymore. This is getting serious. I don't mind getting serious, but it's got to be right before God."

She seated herself on the top of a desk, staring at me.

We just stared at each other in silence for an entire minute, Ibira apparently evaluating my motives while I busied myself wondering when and how she would decide to kill me.

I decided to break the ice. "Uh...since we're already on the subject, what does your god, er, _goddess_, tell you about sex?"

She laughed. "My religion teaches that sexual reproduction does not exist."

I blinked. "Really?"

She nodded.

"Sometimes I wish you were right," I sighed. "It's far too much trouble."

"This is not to say that it doesn't exist. It's just what my religion teaches. And you're right. Sometimes I think it would be better that way."

"That being said..." She came closer to me. "I noticed your eyes betray your words."

I blushed. "Yes they do."

She chortled through her nose.

Another awkward silence. Having nothing else to discuss, we returned to our duty of searching the desks.

When we had gone through four rows of desk drawers, I heard Ibira speaking again.

"Do those commandments truly apply to situations like this? When we're not even the same species?"

I swallowed. "I...well, I guess it's technically not bestiality..."

I rubbed my face. "But I mean, we're not married."

"It's unlikely we can even procreate. Would this rule even apply?"

I shrugged. "I guess you got a point."

She pressed me against a cubicle desk, wrapping all four arms around me. "We can do it right here, if you want to get adventurous. We can do it anywhere you want. I'm all yours."

I flinched, slipping out of her clutches. "I can't. C'mon, let's...do our job."

She sighed and nodded.

We soon finished the sweep. No useful tools. No people.

The board rooms and offices were clean and devoid of corpses. I asked Ibira about this, and she said, "Maybe they all evacuated...or maybe the Na'vi got them. You did see the crosses earlier..."

"Right."

As we reached another hidden hallway lined with bedrooms and offices, Ibira tackled me to a door frame. "I seem to remember we were in the middle of something."

"Yes," I stammered. "But..."

She pressed her face close to mine, whispering in my ear. "I'm sorry my noafwi startled you."

"It's...okay."

"Did it turn you off?"

"I...um...kinda?"

"You think...refamiliarizing yourself with it would help? You know, to desensitize yourself to it?"

I swallowed. "I...I don't know."

She put a hand to my butt. "You liked it up to that point, didn't you?"

"Yeah," I whispered.

She slid a hand into my pocket, sliding the lining over my inner thigh. "Then, shall we continue?"

I blushed. "Uh...I don't know."

"Exactly what do you not know about? Like I said, you can familiarize yourself with it before you decide to do anything."

"I..." I swallowed. "I mean, if we do, do something, I..I mean..."

"Yes?"

"I have to make sure it's right with God first."

She sighed.

"W-why don't you get one of those..._things_ and take up gardening instead?"

She stroked my chest. "We both know that neither one of us wants that."

Her tusks brushed the side of my throat as she pressed my back against the projecting lip of the door frame. Her thigh brushed against the back of my hand, but I resisted the urge to touch anything.

The radio suddenly crackled. "Fourth floor sweep is done. Found another dead body in the restroom. Fat rich guy. Walrus mustache. Found another dead body in the restroom."

Radio silence.

With a groan, she pulled away from me, pressing the talk button. "I do not know who you are referring to. I never worked up there."

"You know, someone is going to have to move them eventually."

She sighed. "I know, but I'm not touching them without industrial cleaning gear."

I heard Sam mutter something in the background.

"It looks like the storm is about to hit. We're going to be taking off in a few minutes. I suggest you head to the lobby unless you want to go back to base on foot."

When I marched a step in the direction of the stairs, Ibira grabbed me, stopping me in my tracks.

"Copy that, Victor," she said into the phone/walkie talkie. "Have a nice trip."

A longer radio silence followed. "What's that again? Please clarify."

But I heard Sam laughing and muttering something in the background like they understood all too well.

She took a deep breath, looking annoyed. "I will remain here with Jason and hold down the fort until you arrive with reinforcements."

Pause. "Copy that. We'll be back tomorrow morning. When you're done playing with his fort, there's some cleaning supplies on the first floor. The janitor left the door open. If you want ABC gear, I think you're SOL."

"Did you see a shovel?"

"That's a negative, Ghost Rider."

"What about body bags?"

"They actually do have some, believe it or not."

"But nothing to scoop everything into them with."

"I think the cafeteria has some spoons," he laughed.

"I'm not doing anything until you bring shovels."

"What if I bring you a Klondike bar?"

She rolled her eyes. "We'll see what we can do."

She clipped the phone back on her harness.

She leaned in close, and I felt hands slipping inside the waistband of my pants. "Now, where were we..."

Suddenly I heard someone whistling the theme song to _Cannon_, that old show about the fat cop.

She pulled her hands out, whipping her head in the direction of the sound with an annoyed glare. "Hurry up and leave already," she hissed under her breath.

Ibira quickly pulled away from me. "Let's go somewhere else."

And then she was dragging me, to the point where I was basically stumbling and letting her pull me along, all the way to the staircase.

I followed her down the steps, staring at her in bewilderment. "What? Did you change your mind?"

She didn't answer.

"Where are we going? Outside? Back to the base? What?"

"Shhh!"

As we were climbing down the stairs, she clutched my hand tight, hurriedly leading me through the now familiar row of lockers and file cabinets.

"Uh, this isn't the way out..." I blurted we stumbled past the long rows of cubicles.

"I know. We have some unfinished business to attend to."

"You mean..."

"Uh huh."

"Why down here?" I hissed. "There's dead bodies around the corner!"

"Exactly. They wouldn't think of looking in here."

I swallowed hard.

That is when we bumped into the midget.

The color drained away from my face.

"Change your mind?" he asked.

Ibira shook her head no.

"Did you find anyone alive?"

"N-no," I stammered.

"Only a second corpse," said Ibira. "It was someone unfamiliar, perhaps from the fraud department."

Victor nodded. "Judging by what we've seen out the window, that storm looks pretty fierce. If I were you, I'd hurry back to the Hummer."

"Okay," I said, but one of Ibira's elbows hit me in the side.

"This facility is secured," she interjected. "I would like to ensure that it stays that way. We also have bodies to dispose of and supplies to retrieve. Request official permission to stay and `hold down the fort'?"

The midget shook his head in annoyance, possibly a little amusement. "Fine fine. Just make sure you get some of these power computer systems activated after you get done _fortifying_ each other."

I thought could feel steam rising from my ears.

He just laughed and waddled away.

Ibira's skin turned a fiery orange. "How did he know?"

"The man's a sleaze," I shrugged. "He's probably seen it all before."

She stared at me. "I think you normally wear that tag on the other side of your neck."

I laughed. "Come to think of it, your harness looks weird. You might want to check that too."

She cleared her throat. "I don't suppose anyone will notice now."

"No," I laughed. "I guess not."

And then I was being dragged past the rows of cubicles and through the open doorway of the female crew quarters.

She leaned in close, rubbing a tusk against my neck. "I'd like to try another scientific experiment. How about we link our reproductive organs together and find out what happens?"

As the tusks again slid up around my neck, I again spoke up in protest. "Ibira, look. I'm not a man of easy virtue."

She ran a hand down my shirt, unbuttoning my collar with the other. "I didn't say you were. But what's really wrong with it? Our two species shouldn't be compatible, so we're just having fun, right?"

She kissed me on the lips, sliding her froglike tongue around in my mouth.

I returned the gesture, but then pulled back when I felt her unbuckling my belt.

She rolled her eyes, frowning at me. "What."

"Bestiality is a sin."

"I thought you said I wasn't one."

I momentarily couldn't speak. I just sputtered half formed words.

"Are you saying I'm a beast?"

"No..."

She pulled my belt out of its loop. "So you want to go through with the formality and expense of a wedding only to find, after a year or so, that all we can produce is orgasms?"

I swallowed.

She stroked my collarbone with her finger. "We're both virgins, so it's not adultery."

I found myself nodding. "I guess, if we're not physically compatible, it's not fornication, either."

"I guess not." And she unbuttoned my pants and unzipped them with two hands, using her other hands to undo something between her legs.

"Wait," I said.

"What is it now?"

"Grace Augustine, she shot some kind of chip into my chest to monitor the sleepwalking. It shows her where I am and what's happening with my body."

She squeezed my butt. "So?"

"What do you mean, `so'? She'll see everything!"

"I have a knife. Would you like me to cut it out?"

I paled. "No."

A hand slid between my legs. "Well then."

If this were anyone else, I would have insisted on marriage. If she were human, I would have dropped on one knee, offered her a gumball machine ring or something until I got to earth to get her a real one, and done a proper marriage.

If I already had a human girlfriend, I would have thought twice about it.

But I only had her, and she me.

Besides, I figured she was right. Maybe nothing would happen except orgasms. She was a space alien, after all.

"You're right," I said. "But again, I take relationships very seriously. Once we go through with this, I swear I will not sleep with another female but you as long as we both live."

She smiled. "Not even a human?"

"You know how I feel about that."

She shook her head. "So sad. But I shouldn't complain."

And then I was being pulled back into the sleeping quarters, a pair of green hands reaching under my ripped up polo.

"Your shirts have a very inefficient design," she said. "They have to be stretched and pulled over your head in order to be removed."

I gulped. "That's because I'm not normally in the habit of taking it off."

She yanked the polo over my head, throwing it on the floor. "Then perhaps a change of wardrobe is in order."

"My button shirts are all on earth."

She pulled my belt free from its loops, tossing it aside. "Then we'll have to find you something else to wear."

Yes, I know, there were dead people rotting in the place. It wasn't exactly the sexiest place to do this kind of thing, but she came onto me, so I decided I didn't mind.

So...

Ordinarily, if I were discussing a normal relationship with a normal human being, I would be modest and not disclose the graphic details of my, ahem, sexual activities.

I mean, me being kind of religious and all.

However, this was not normal.

This didn't fit into any conceivable human idea of normal.

We had normal on a leash tied to our rear bumper as we're stepping on the gas pedal. Nobody human has ever done this.

Inquiring minds want to know.

My pants came unbuttoned, dropping to the floor.

Her fingers tugged on the elastic waistband of my cotton briefs, and they fell around my ankles. I left them behind as I followed her onto the sheets.

Ibira unbuckled a pair of fasteners, one on her back, one between her legs, and her harness fell loose around her hips.

With a smile, she slid her legs free from the loops and tossed it aside, straddling the mattress naked.

A green hand gently smoothed my penis. "So this configuration is typical of all males of your species?"

I shrugged. "I guess some are bigger."

"I have heard that size doesn't count, but rather how you use it."

"So...you've really never seen one before?"

She shook her head. "Only in pictures and a couple films. I've never seen one up close."

I sighed in relief. "Good."

"How about you? Have you ever seen a noafwi?"

"Are you kidding? Do I look like I know my way around? I already told you my standpoint..."

"So... you... haven't been...penetrated by a human before."

Her skin seemed to change color. "No."

She reached between my legs, grabbing what she found there. "Are these the nuts you mentioned earlier?"

"What?" Then, in response to her playful fingering, I blurted, "Yes. They're nuts."

"It's a good thing I got to these before the squirrels did," she giggled as she cupped her fingers around them.

"Y-yeah."

I scooted in closer, sliding my hands up her thighs. Her naked green skin was smooth as silk,with an exotic pebbled texture like soft snake leather.

The snake things exploded from her crotch again, but this time I expected it. I was even a little excited by it.

Her tusks prodded me gently in the abdomen, her frog's tongue whipping out and matting down the rough tangle of hair between my legs before traveling upwards, over the slope of my stomach, dipping into my navel. The tongue shot up and out, moistening the sunken recess in the middle of my bare chest, into the pit of my neck, then up and over my chin, lapping playfully off my nostrils.

Then, suddenly, she pushed me backwards on the sheets, climbing on top of me.

I never thought I'd lose my virginity to a green four armed alien with no breasts and a vagina that felt like a slimy mass of wiggling spaghetti, but it happened.

Her noafwi felt a bit like raw squirming hamburger, but it wasn't all together unpleasant.

It felt weird, but...pleasurable, so I just let my body take over.

That by itself would have been all well and good, but then, as we neared a climax, or what I thought was the climax, I suddenly heard Ibira grunting, "This is going to hurt a little. Just hold still. It'll feel better, I promise."

"What?" I blurted, but she just shushed me.

A moment later, I felt something like a pair of upside down snake fangs stabbing me through the scrotum.

I screamed, but she only covered my mouth and shushed me again.

"They'll hear!" she hissed, uncovering my mouth.

I started to scream again, and the hand went back over my mouth.

"Quiet! They'll hear!"

I screamed through my nose like I did at the dentist when they were hitting a spot that wasn't numbed. It hurt so bad that I was crying.

"Shhh." She gave me a soft smile, wiping away my tears with one of her hands. "Listen. Qozisa males have an...organ, an olbenas, which is penetrated by the yidrut," she purred as she attempted to resume our motions.

"I'm not a Qozisa!" I protested as she removed her hand.

She nodded. "Still, even they experience the pain, if they have not done it before."

"But I'm not an alien!" I cried. "All I'll get is an infection!"

"It was your idea," she said, rocking against me. "Besides, the configuration isn't that dissimilar."

"It hurts," I whimpered.

"It gets better."

She wasn't wrong.

As she continued to rub against me I felt a sensation I could only compare to a blood transfusion, a weird warm rush of inrushing fluid that felt like the rewinding of the whole male sexual process. It spread outwards from the crotch, filling my body with a pleasurable tingle that gave me the impression that I really didn't know what a real orgasm was, and I was going to find out.

And, as she continued her activities, I wanted to know.

Our actions increased pace, and I got to the feeling like my point of release as somewhere past where we were, but we kept going.

And then, I got got this bizarre sensation like we were both splurting fluids into each other, though I knew not where hers were going.

For a few minutes, we were content to simply lay in each other's arms with our genitals stuck together, reveling in an afterglow that Ibira admittedly had to finish off herself when I stopped two minutes early.

It was the most pleasurable thing I'd ever experienced, but also a moment in which I felt the greatest guilt.

As I lay in her four arms, pressed naked against her scaly skin, as the heat of the moment ebbed away, I felt waves of shame, guilt and depression wash over me.

She let out a contented, purring sigh. "You don't look happy."

I swallowed. "It was great. Don't get me wrong, but..."

"Like I said, it's unlikely we can reproduce, so this is just...an amusement."

"It feels like more than that," I muttered.

"Do you know about the Muromsi?" She said as she settled into a comfortable position. Well, comfortable to her, at any rate. I could still feel the fang-like things inside me.

"No?"

"It's an animal."

I sighed in relief as the needles slowly retracted from my genitals.

She smiled apologetically. "Every spring the Muromsi ingests a large quantity of Ululpo, which drives it into a lustful mania in which it will attempt to copulate with everything in sight. The creatures it makes the attempts with...they often ingest the Ululpo as well, and so they will join it in the act, but never do they produce any offspring.

"Well, there's the Reidxon, but that one is impotent. The point is, you're the Muromsi."

I shifted back a bit, trying to slide out of her, but the tentacle things just pulled me back in.

"It takes two to mutually agree upon sex," I protested.

Her face turned a different color. "True. Perhaps I was the Muromsi Or we both were."

"But then we could produce offspring."

"No, I really can't say that we will. But we can always hope."

I blanched, not really sure that's what I wanted at all.

"So," she breathed. "If we did have a child together, would you consider marriage then?"

My stomach sank. "I'd have to."

"Good," she purred, running a hand over my buttocks. "Speaking of which..."

Still straddling my body in intimate ways, she leaned back and grabbed her harness, opening one of the small leather pouches.

The next thing I knew, she was pouring some kind of oil on my stomach, writing mystic signs in the ooze, chanting something under her breath.

She then smeared signs on her own stomach. "May Iss shape in me an ideal widprisi."

"What was that?"

She chuckled. "Qozisa do not believe that sexual reproduction produces offspring, but we say this chant at the conclusion of the act."

Despite the fact I didn't ascribe to...whatever belief this was, she was trying damn hard to burn bread. I paled.

Apparently noting my cringing, she said, "You do not approve of this blessing?"

Not wishing to offend, I just said, "Uh, I just thought you didn't want kids."

"You don't want kids. I never said I didn't."

My stomach did a flip-flop, but I didn't verbalize my upset. "I...guess four arms _would be_ an improvement to my chromosomes," I muttered.

"As would some of your attributes," she smiled. "As much as you exaggerate your weaknesses and failings, there is much I find desirable."


	61. Chapter 62: Chairman of the Board

Several overhead lights came on with a low hum. It seemed Victor and the others hadn't completely vacated the premises yet.

Startled, I tried to get up, and jump out of the bed to investigate, but Ibira pushed me back down on the sheets with a soft purr.

"They got the lights back on!" I gasped.

"Looks like it," she smiled, easing herself lower onto me.

I rolled my eyes, trying to ignore the dull ache that she was causing down below.

To my great relief, she made no attempt to start things up again.

I suppose I couldn't say I was uncomfortable. Aside from having my stomach covered in sticky glop that smelled like skunk and paint thinner, I could just lay there and enjoy the sensation of our relaxed muscles ebbing and throbbing against each other in pleasant unity. But I was getting hungry.

"Is there anything to eat around here?"

"You can try to make me lactate if you want," she giggled, teasingly making the muscular wiggling stuff between her legs squirm around my organ.

I gawked at her. "You can lactate?"

Nodding, she fingered one of the six knobby little bumps running along the sides of her upper torso. "Remember these? You should. You were running your hands all over them. They're not just for show, you know."

The bumps were always well hidden beneath the leather straps of her harness. I leaned closer to examine one, staring at the X shaped opening at its point. "Don't you need to give birth to lactate?"

"It helps, but no. Milk production begins just minutes after one of them is aggressively chewed. That being said, don't expect a lot to come out."

I wiggled my way out of her arms, disengaging myself from her noafwi. "I'd love to try that later, but I'm looking for something more substantial. I could eat a horse...or whatever horse-like thing they have on this planet."

"We can check to see if there's any food left in Heuristic Kitchen."

"What's Heuristic Kitchen?" I said as I pulled on my cotton briefs.

"It's a store designed for office buildings."

I cinched up the waistband.

Before I could ask if there were people in this HK place, what it was like, or what methods of payment they accepted, she said, "Wait. I've found something for you to wear."

I grimaced. "Dead people clothes?"

"Not exactly."

And then I was being dragged through the office wearing noting but my briefs.

I stared as she flung open one of the lockers near the entrance, holding up a black leather harness for me to see.

"This once belonged to a Qozisa who worked in the Fraud Department. He was a little larger than you, but the straps are adjustable."

She handed it to me, smiling expectantly.

Feeling hot and embarrassed, I said, "Fine. I'll wear it. But you'll have to excuse me if I don't wear it all over the place."

She made a sound like she were clearing her throat. "Pah. You must have courage!"

"I don't think I'll ever be that courageous," I groaned.

"This is something we must work on."

I stared at the leather for a moment, then marched a step towards the bathrooms. "I'll...go put this on."

"You're in your underwear," she said. "We just did the act of copulation. We saw everything on each other's bodies that are worth seeing. Are you telling me you're still shy to be naked in front of me?"

She had a point. Turning red, I slid my foot through one of the loops.

She cleared her throat.

"What. Can't I wear underwear under this thing?"

Ibira showed me the leather strap dangling between my ankles. "This portion will cover your genitalia."

And so I pulled off my underwear and slid my arms and legs through the loops as four sets of green hands cinched up the various cords and straps securely around the appropriate places. The crotch piece was a rather small fit, but since the material seemed be made of a non-terrestrial form of leather, it stretched out to cover everything that needed to be covered with a few tugs on a pair of connecting bands.

"There," she smiled. "Much sexier. Now we'll just have to work on your climax release time."

Blushing furiously, I followed her down the staircase, feeling a bit bolder in my near indecent state, until we reached the lobby, wherein my boldness ebbed away. I worried that someone outside would see us. After all, I hadn't heard anyone leave.

I followed her down the cold tile floor and down an adjoining hallway, noting that, without clothing, the building was a bit chilly, despite being situated in a jungle climate.

My privates still ached from all the abuse they'd gone through earlier, and the kinky outfit didn't help it one bit. I could feel it with every step. I tried to think of something else.

Heuristic Kitchen looked basically like a Quiktrip, except there was no cash register, only a computerized payment kiosk and racks of product.

I asked Ibira for an explanation, and she said that the place basically operated on the honor system. A camera was watching, so if you took something without paying, you were out of a job.

It was a chain of imitation convenience stores, set up in break rooms all across the United States. This particular one had a sizable inventory, but the items had passed their expiration date.

After wandering around for hours in a darkened, dead silent building, it was surreal to hear the cooler fans blowing away the heat inside the cold case like nothing had ever happened there.

I stared at a rack of moldy cinnamon muffins. then moved on to the cold case.

The salads were all wilted, the sandwiches were a hairy blue, the yogurt all abloom with sporozoa, the likes of which I had never seen before. The only thing remotely edible appeared to be the chips, the crackers, and the candy bars.

"As you can see, it has been some time since this office has been occupied. Since the power was off, the sandwiches and other items are all rotten except for the dry goods. We may have some freeze dried foods, but I suggest you go with me on a hunt."

"Hunt?" I swallowed.

"Yes."

We marched out of there, passing through a large corporate cafeteria space. It was fancy as a restaurant, with a little passageway off to the side filled with rows of microwaves of various types, sturdy padded industrial chairs, and a sort of bar type arrangement running across the back window, allowing you to gaze out at the yard while you ate.

As we gazed through the glass together, enjoying the calm jungle scenery, Ibira leaned her head against my chest, putting an arm around my waist.

I returned the gesture with an arm around her shoulder, and I felt a second hand gently curling around his left thigh.

"Would you consider marrying me if I indeed had a widprisi?"

"A baby?"

"Yes. A baby."

My stomach sank at the mere thought, but I said, "Definitely. It wouldn't seem right for me not to commit my life to you if you had a baby to take care of. It would be our baby. Whatever species it would end up being. It would need a daddy."

"Then I have made a good choice in partners." She rubbed her tusk against my face. "Are you still hungry?"

I shrugged. "Yeah?"

"Then let us hunt."

"You want me to hunt in this?"

"Males in my culture have worn such things for centuries."

"Sounds like they suffered from a lot of insect bites."

"Admittedly, yes, but it pleases me. I can find some salves."

I rubbed my face. "Fine."

And so I followed her to the set of security locked glass doors leading out the outdoor smoker's lounge.

I still worried that someone might drive by and see me. "Must I go outside in this getup?"

"Yes," she purred. "When we joined together in nargips, you joined yourself to my tribe. You will now dress according to custom and hunt with me so that we may further bond."

"I just know I'm going to end up with bug bites all over my legs and private regions."

Without a word, or even asking permission, she dug a bottle out of a pouch on her harness, applying a foul smelling slime to the areas in question.

"There," she said. "I just applied some repellent. Better?"

"I guess you could call it that." I frowned as I watched her coating her own lower regions. "You could have at least asked me first."

"I thought our relationship had progressed to the point of nonverbal communication. Since we have already laid claim to each other's bodies, I though it only natural to do what I saw fit with yours. Within reason, of course."

"Of course," I muttered, reddening. "I...guess you got me there."

She slapped me on my naked butt and left it there. "That's what I thought."

With the power on, the door would not open without a swipe from an employee badge.

To my surprise, Ibira had one, tucked inside a slim pocket hidden in the front of her crotch strap. It was just a gray card with a computer chip on the back, but the door light turned green and we were allowed outside.

I followed her out into the field, watching as she pulled out a dagger, ducking behind a clump of weeds.

"It's a Na'vi!" she hissed. "Get down and follow my lead!"

I obeyed, but my knees squished in something cold and wet. I frowned when I saw what it was. "I think I just knelt in alien poop."

"Good. It'll mask your scent. Stay down!"

I squinted at the hunched over, lumbering figure wading through the weeds. "Why is that Razorback wearing a tie?"

"You got me. If he saw me, he'd probably be wondering why I'm wearing _this thing_."

After huddling there in silence for a moment, Ibira stood back up. "He knows we're here! Quick! Get ready to run!"

The creature didn't advance. Instead, it raised a claw and pointed at me, letting out a braying laugh.

Ibira clenched her fist around her knife, holding out a hand to wave me back, but neither one of us moved.

The blue thing shuffled closer, pointing to its chest while making...grunts and other unintelligible sounds.

"That tie _does _look familiar..."

"He probably killed someone and took their clothes as a trophy."

I waved at the beast and it replied by tipping an imaginary hat.

"He seems nice," I said.

"Perhaps that is how it kills. By disarming its prey with strange behavior."

She raised her spear and screamed at it. "Shoo! Go away! Kekmor! Vupdewa! Go!" She waved it away.

When it didn't go, she hurled a rock in its direction, causing it to shuffle off with a piteous whimper.

"That was mean," I said.

"It was for your own protection. You saw the necktie. There's probably a dead body out there that it belongs to."

"I know. We saw a dead body on the recording. But how did he tie the tie?"

"They can learn. His victim may have actually tied it on him before he killed him."

"Then what about the Avatar program?"

She paused, as if giving it serious thought. "That was a myth. It's implausible that you saw a man trapped in a blue body. No technology is sophisticated enough to channel the Qombixa of a sentient being into the body of another. The program director only made clones to spy on the Na'vi. The clones later turned feral halfway into the operation and they joined forces with the Razorbacks, destroying Hell's Gate and killing hundreds of people. "

Once the pitiful creature had passed us by, Ibira crept forward, craning her neck back and forth.

She knelt down.

"What are you looking for?"

She sniffed the air.

"Prey," she whispered.

After a few more sniffs, she knelt down, examining the ground.

Letting out a gasp, she crawled forward, then waved me over with a hiss.

"What?" I said.

She pointed to a cluster of droppings. "Something's here. It's fresh."

"Na'vi poop?"

She grimaced, shaking her head. "Something else."

She popped her head up, then ducked in the bushes again, pointing to a dark shape a few yards away from a tree.

"You go up there. Charge it from the front. It'll probably get scared, and that should drive it toward me."

"Uh...when?"

"When you see the signal." She held up the blade, tilting it back and forth to make a flash.

"Right." I rubbed my hands together. "Let's do this."

And then she darted off soundlessly into the weeds.

Attempting to be equally soundless, I crept forward, pushing my way to the tree as fast as I could.

When I reached a clearing surrounding the tree, I got a good look at our quarry, a rather hefty looking canine with a full back of porcupine quills.

Then I saw the flash.

Confident that my near naked form would be enough to terrify anything, or at least give it a start, I jumped out and screamed at the thing.

Sure enough, the creature bolted, and as it fled, I saw a green blur, and bright yellow blood sprayed from its neck.

Letting out a gurgling roar, the thing thrashed about a few tense moments before collapsing and laying still.

"Success!" she shouted. "I admit it's not a large kill, but we should each get a satisfactory amount of meat."

Ibira plucked a few handfuls of quills out of her skin, but mostly she was unscathed.

"You should be covered in those things, shouldn't you?"

She shook her head. "Not if you know what side to grab it on."

My jaw hung open in surprise. "You've done this before?"

"A few times. At night. Probably when you were sleeping...or sleepwalking." She frowned at me. "You were lucky. Direwolves generally fire their quills when surprised or afraid. Some of them contain poison."

A heavy lump rolled down my throat. "Um, okay. So...do we start gathering firewood or something?"

She rolled her eyes and shook her head. "You think like a Bilwobi. Let's use a microwave."

Slicing it thin to avoid alien salmonella, we microwaved the meat, supplementing the meal with dry foods from the "company kitchen", which we didn't pay for because neither of us had any cash, or special cards, or even a credit card.

Under different circumstances, I probably still wouldn't have paid for a bag of chips that expired two years ago.

As you can imagine, Direwolf is not easy to microwave. It took several minutes to get it fully cooked, and by the time it was done, I thought I would die from starvation, and my mind kept on turning over Ibira's offer of liquid nourishment.

Fortunately, I was spared from such desperate measures by a hearty serving of rubbery Direwolf ribs, seasoned with condiments from Heuristic Kitchen.

There was a certain pleasure I got from setting the slabs of greasy meat down on one of those pristine corporate cafeteria tables, especially as the oily goo trickled off on the carpet, making a horrible mess.

"Tomorrow we will use a proper fire," Ibira frowned as she chewed a piece of the stuff. "I do not like how this turned out."

We ate in silence for a moment.

"Voorginia," I said with a chuckle.

"Edgar Rice Burroughs was wrong about a lot of things. I am not from Mars, and I am not a delicate flower with a `glass jaw' as you might say."

To avoid choking on a tough piece of Direwolf, I spat it out, using Ibira's knife to slice it thinner. I would have used something else, but the place only had a bunch of plastic cutlery.

She didn't seem bothered by this at all. Of course, she'd had plenty of my saliva already.

"Does it bother you at all to...attack the natives?"

"Not really. They're just another tribe. I admit we do have some things in common, but they join their bodies to plants and animals like they are plugging a stereo into a loudspeaker. I cannot relate to that."

I stripped a rib bone clean. "You know," I said. "I used to be suicidal. I used to really want to die. But now that I know what it's like to come close, with all these attacks and the medical issue I had before I came here, I don't want that anymore."

"I'm glad to hear it," Ibira smiled. "Someone had to be a father to our children."

I nearly choked on my food. "What?"

She grinned. "Just kidding."

The smile faded. "Honestly, you are a courageous, noble human with a kind heart and..." She suddenly looked bashful, her skin changing colors. "With the body and libidinal urges of a Muromsi."

"I still don't know what that is," I stammered.

She blushed deeper. "You only think that rabbits are the busiest animals."

It was my turn to blush.

"Busy," I repeated.

"I think you know what I mean."

"Now you're talking like me!" I laughed, turning redder. "I think I'm rubbing off on you."

"We did do a lot of rubbing..."

I looked her in the eyes. Well, you know, as well as possible. "Ibira, I know it doesn't make much sense for us to marry, but, for whatever it's worth, I just want to say that I love you and I still won't give my body to anyone else for as long as we both live."

"That is a foolish promise," she said with a blush. "But I agree to do the same."

After an awkward pause, she added, "At least it is better than the Lajazwa, which says that the two are to remain committed even after death. It leaves the surviving partner lonely and unfulfilled, I think unnecessarily."

"I agree," I said.

She laughed.

I frowned. "What?"

"I was just thinking that, if you were to propose to me, I would say yes, if only for the sheer entertainment value of seeing you attempt to explain me to your parents."

I was tempted to do it, but didn't. I only chuckled a little, then dropped the smile. "Yeah. That would certainly be...interesting." I sighed. "But you're right. All that trouble and expense..."

She nodded. "Plus you live on earth, and I'm not exactly the girl next door."

I shook my head. "Yeah. I don't think I'm ready to permanently move to your planet."

She suddenly leaned over the table. "But I might be."

I nearly choked on a mouthful of meat. "You're not serious, are you? You'd stick out! Where would you work? What would you do? Where would you live?"

"I'd work here," she smiled. "I'd manage."

"So," I ventured. "You'd...just stay here...and we'd meet here...and you'd be like some fairy bride who can't step outside the wood without disintegrating?"

She looked baffled.

I rubbed my face n frustration, inadvertently smearing grease all over. "I'm picturing you, in dress and veil, in the parking lot, then we're hanging out, and I say, `Let's go out for ice cream,' and we can't because...you know."

"Because we'd have a good time?"

I could tell it was a halfhearted jest, but I didn't want play around with something like this. "There's guys that would probably love to dissect you."

"In the movies," she persisted. "Not in real life."

I sunk in my chair. "Right. I'll just say, `four cones for my green girlfriend, one for each hand.'"

I saw anger flash across her features. She made like she were getting up, but she instead sighed and stared at the table like a tiger who had lost its prey.

"I don't get it," I groaned in frustration. "Now that we've just about done everything sexual that can be done, you're asking for marriage?"

"Are you saying I'm not allowed to change my mind?"

I blanched. "You sure picked a funny time to do it."

Her skin changed color. "That promise you made. Were those just words?"

"Of course not!" I cried.

It took me a moment to loosen a proper response from the back of my throat.

"But it's just that you said-"

"I know what I said," she muttered quietly.

She just left the statement hanging in the air.

I looked away, my stomach churning as I struggled with my emotions. I could only blame part of my indigestion on the food.

"Are you ashamed to be with me?"

"No! I kissed you in front of everybody," I paused. "Well, in front of people. I'm wearing the harness. All I'm saying is, on earth, you're not going to fit in, and I probably will get fired and blackballed for taking you out anywhere. You know how those people are."

"That's true," she sighed.

"I'd live on your world, if you had the tools to get me there, but I have family that cares for me, and I can't bring myself to leave."

She looked glum before, but now she seemed even sadder.

"My family disowned me. I have no such problem."

A silence fell between us. We didn't touch our food for a whole minute.

At last, Ibira straightened up and smiled. "It seems, then, we are both destined to spend our lifetimes working for the company."

I nodded, briefly picturing myself going to work like normal, clocking out, and dropping down to one of the employee bedrooms for a little makeout session...or cuddling. I also briefly pictured us having a fight about some human girl or another, though I decided that any fight on that account with Ibira would end up with my blood and intestines spilling out onto the floor.

If I were that indifferent to her feelings, I considered, I probably would deserve whatever I got.

"I guess so," I said.

Dessert consisted of old candy bars that had practically turned to rubber. The remainder of the meat we shoved into the now active cold racks once occupied by rotten food.

Although it would have been responsible to take care of the bodies immediately, neither one of us wanted to empty our stomachs so soon after having worked so hard to fill them. And so we instead chose to hit the showers, located in the basement level.

Ibira showed me to the showers, and we got cleaned up. Although she bemoaned the fact we were wasting a precious salve, she agreed that it wasn't particularly sexy to have me walking around with animal crap caked on my legs.

She tried to get me to do more than shower under that warm spray, but I was still aching from what we did earlier.

Feeling exhausted, I put my harness back on and stretched, asking her if she were ready for bed.

She pulled me close. "You mean you're ready again?"

I cringed. "I meant, to really sleep. Are you tired? I know I am."

She let out a sigh of resignation. "Yes, I suppose I am."

And so we strolled lazily down the hallway, and up the staircase, to the second floor landing. I was about to go in, but she stopped me.

"You're right. It is disgusting with the dead bodies laying around. Let's sleep upstairs tonight."

"Wait," I said.

"Do you seriously want to..._sleep_ down here?"

"No. I just wanted to get my clothes."

"Leave them," she purred. The tone sounded dangerous, like she might kill me if I failed to comply.

Swallowing, I said, "It might get cold. I was already a bit cold downstairs. It's not exactly warm up here, either."

She caressed my bare lower stomach, her other hands massaging my backside. "I'll warm you."

I sighed in frustration.

"Very well," she groaned. "But hurry."

I had no real reason to rush, other than to avoid spending time with the bodies. At night, my imagination was working overtime, so I hurriedly got my things and scurried to my lover's side.

We climbed up a flight, marching into Cardmember Services.

Before we were even halfway there, I was being dragged into a conference room.

I glanced around, worried that something dangerous was out there, but I saw nothing.

Instead, I was being thrown backwards over the cold glass table protector on a shiny solid oak boardroom table, and pairs of green hands were unsnapping parts of my harness as her long tongue wiggled its way into my mouth from lips half a foot away.

The tongue snapped back into her mouth. "Are you still cold?"

Feeling my skin break into goosebumps as it pressed against the cold glass, I nodded, stupidly thinking she would find us blankets or something.

Instead, she pulled my harness off, using her other hands to unsnap the fasteners between her legs. "Let's warm things up a little."

You can guess what happened after that.

The board room had a huge glass window. We could see everything in the call center, and anyone who had the misfortune of passing by would be able to see us.

She didn't care one bit.

I suppose I didn't, either. In fact, it was kind of thrilling.

This time, the fangs already had a place to go, so there wasn't as much pain.

Once we had knocked all the intercom equipment onto the floor, crossing the pinnacle of our coitus, Ibira suddenly started sneezing.

"What was that?" she said.

"You...sneezed?"

"Qozisa never sneeze. Why did I do that?"

"I don't know. It's not unheard of for women to sneeze during sex. It might have something to do with the immune system. I'm not sure."

"I've never experienced that before," she stammered.

"There's a first time for everything. This has been a day of firsts."

When our movements subsided, and I felt the last ebbs of the warm fluids pumping into both our bodies, I really was tired. We collapsed in each others arms and slept that way.

We awoke to the sounds of breaking glass.

I sat bolt upright. "What was that!"

Ibira was already disengaging herself from my body, cinching up her harness with two hands while the other drew out a knife.

Shrugging, I busied myself with fastening up my own, watching as she crept to the door frame, shifting the position of her knife.

Not wanting to be seen in such an embarrassing getup, and wanting some added protection, I threw on my shirt, underwear and pants over my harness the moment Ibira disappeared from view.

As I neared the end of the hallway, I heard Ibira let out a yelp.

I heard an animal shriek, then a vast leathery shape filled the end of the hallway, glaring at me with its baleful red eye.

The thing let out a tremendous squawk, then stomped closer, snapping its mouth threateningly.

I'd faced such a beast before, so I wasn't as afraid as I probably should have been. What's more, I worried for Ibira's safety, and all that stuff about being part of the tribe got into my head.

I figured there were worse ways to die, and if this were how it would end, I would welcome it.

And so, when it stomped closer, I didn't run. Instead, I did the exact opposite and marched out to meet the thing.

I didn't look at the creature directly, I just stared at the open spaces beneath its wings, making a mental comparison between a chess piece that can't attack something directly against its side.

The creature bellowed, then charged at me.

Mustering all my courage, I let out a scream, charging at the thing, as if to ram into it.

The creature was so taken aback that it scooted back on the carpet a bit, bracing itself for impact.

I wasn't that stupid. When I came close, I dove straight beneath its right wing, and I was out on the other side.

I had only savored my victory a moment when I found thick netting being thrown over my head, and I was knocked to the floor and tied inside it like a rabbit in a gunny sack.

The next moment, a blue figure was dragging me, kicking and screaming, into a corner between a pole and a cubicle.

I sighed, staring at my captor in frustration.

I didn't see Ibira anywhere.

I saw a blue snout lower down to my level. A pair of yellow eyes glared back at me. "When are you stupid bastards going to learn that this is my planet and I don't put up with anyone's shit?"

I was so surprised that my first words were, "Excuse me?"

The Na'vi frowned at me. "You ain't too bright, are you fella?"


	62. Chapter 63: Hostile Takeover

I stared at the creature in shock. It spoke perfect English. Well, actually perfect American.

"If I were bright," I said. "I would have done a lot of things in my life differently."

"Does that include fucking a Qozisa's brains out on a meeting room table?"

I reddened. "I don't know what you're talking about."

I figured he'd seen me from behind a desk or something, but it really annoyed me. "How come you're not makig oinking sounds like the other ones?"

The beast laughed. "Because I'm the goddess, that's why. The Na'vi are just my puppets. I do with them what I want. You should be on your knees thanking me that I don't want to kill you, but your performance amused me."

I swallowed. "Performance?"

"I loved it! I saw everything. The hunting your dinner in that ridiculous Indian costume, just like a Na'vi, and then that amazing act of fuckery you did on the office furniture..." The thing snorted in amusement. "I can just picture some corporate bigwig coming in there and laying his papers right in a pool of dried jism and uztato, and getting that shit all over his hands and his crispy clean suit. I'm gonna let you live just so I can see what the babies look like."

I'm pretty sure my entire body was a solid red at this point. "So what do you plan to do with me?"

"Oh? Your buddies are going to come driving up here in a couple hours with their guns blazing, and I intend to have myself a nice human shield for protection."

"Why do you want this place?" I asked.

"I want to let this whole chunk of industrial scrap collapse and get absorbed into the ecosystem, maybe run a little garden through it. Your kind has done nothing but kill, destroy and rape nature, and it's about time they get what's coming to them."

i saw something green dart behind the Na'vi, and yellow blood spurted from its mouth and a hole in its chest. It fell to the floor.

"Not if you get it first," Ibira remarked.

The other creatures scattered.

The next moment, she was kneeling by the net, cutting the ropes that secured it.

What happened to your leather? Don't tell me you're suddenly ashamed to wear it."

"I was a little cold. Plus I thought I could use some cloth armor." I pulled up my shirt, exposing the harness.

She laughed.

She cut the rest of the ropes, pulling me to my feet. "C'mon. Let's go."

But as we were running alongside the windows, a group of blue figures stepped out in front of us, blocking our path.

"You stupid bitch!" one of them shouted. "Haven't you figured out I've got home field advantage?"

The moment it had finished saying this, it was on the floor, and Ibira was holstering her pistol.

"Visitor: two. Home: zero."

I swallowed. "What now?"

"He wants to use you as a hostage. Since we are clearly outnumbered, I suggest we get you out of here as quickly as possible."

She pulled out her phone. "Ibira to base. Requesting backup."

No answer. The phone only hissed.

"Ibira to base. Requesting backup."

Nothing.

She pulled me by my arm. "C'mon."

Before the other goons could react, she was already climbing up on a narrow cubicle wall, frantically waving to me.

And so I fumbled my way up there, watching with fascination as she ran across the narrow spines of the partitions.

Me, it was like I was doing the balance beam at a playground. I had to go slow to avoid falling off.

"Hey! I shouted as I saw her speeding away. "Slow down!"

"It's not that narrow!" she called. "You can make it! Hurry!"

I only made it across three cubicles before slipping off the edge, breaking a keyboard and knocking over a monitor. A networking device fell off, banging noisily against the drawers beneath.

"Get up! Hurry! Don't let them catch you!"

Seeing a blue face pop up in front of the cubicle, I picked up the monitor and slammed the beast right across the snout. Not terribly effective, but it gave me a chance to grab a nearby keyboard and mouse and hop back up on the cubicle wall.

Pocketing the mouse, I swung the keyboard by its plug like a whip, breaking the case in half on one of my pursuer's heads.

"Stop playing around! Keep going!"

I wasn't even thinking anymore. I just wanted out of there.

Clutching the broken keyboard in my hands, I hopped off the cubicle and ran along the middle aisle, slamming the shattered casing on the first blue face that got too near.

I smacked another one, and another, until the keyboard broke into pieces and I was stabbing one of them in the chest with it.

"Sorry!" I cried as I ran away.

As I neared the section of cubicles adjacent to the "bridge", four green hands grabbed me, dragging me toward a row of glassless windows near the filing cabinets.

"Explain to me again why Snaker was able to slice open your neck?"

I shrugged. "Why are we over here? The staircase is the other way."

She led me over to a glistening red and black tiger striped Ikran, showing me a gold controller attached to one of its head fins.

I gaped. "Seriously?"

"Military and video game equipment have many crossover applications." She hopped on the creature's back, making it step forward by pressing buttons on the joypad.

My eyes narrowed. "Wait. How did this thing get in here?"

"It came through the window."

This new bit of information made me even more suspicious. "And you knew we were being attacked?"

"Yes."

For a moment, I was so flustered I couldn't even think straight.

"I thought they plugged their hair into those."

"They do," she said. "I found it in one of the lockers while you were getting dressed."

I gawked at her. "You were only pretending to be asleep?"

She nodded, turning the creature's nose toward the window. "Get on."

I paled. "You're kidding."

"No. Get up here so we can leave."

My hands turned clammy with sweat as I met her expectant stare. "Surely, we can find another-"

"No!" she hissed, cocking her head towards a cluster of blue figures running up a nearby aisle. She slapped the bumpy scales behind her impatiently. "Hurry!"


	63. Chapter 64: Flight

Arrows flew at me from all directions, but I somehow ducked them.

"Dammit," I muttered as I slowly edged closer to the Ikran.

My hands broke in a cold sweat as I grabbed the creature's back, making fumbling grabs at whatever protruding pieces of flesh I could find. I did this so poorly that Ibira had to slide down and pull me into a secure position.

She showed me what flaps to grab, lifting my legs into position with her other hands.

"You...don't mind me sitting behind you like this?"

"Did I mind it when we had our clothes off?"

I blushed. "Um...no."

"Just don't distract me unless you relish the idea of falling."

I sucked in my breath as I watched our new pet stomp closer and closer to the edge. It was a pretty steep fall from that open window frame to the ground below, and I really didn't believe that this thing could actually keep us in the air.

And then it jumped, flapping high into the air above the parking lot.

I stared with unease at the scenery passing beneath me, the rocks, the mountains, the trees, the hard unyielding ground. Since Ibira always had two arms holding fast to secure portions of the Ikran's anatomy at all times, I frequently found myself clutching her so hard and pressing so close that she scolded me and made me grab onto something else until I calmed down.

"Don't like heights, huh?"

"Is it that obvious?"

"You seem very tense. I can barely tell that a male is pressing his crotch against my butt."

Before I could respond, I heard a loud squawk. I felt an arrow zip past my head, just inches from my ear.

Before I could adequately prepare myself, I found myself flipping backwards and diving at crazy angles as arrow fletchings and points whistled around us in all directions. Hugging my driver and holding on for dear life was all I could do to avoid falling off. I hollered the whole time.

"Stop screaming in my ear!" Ibira shouted. "You're going to make me wreck!"

I bit my tongue, screaming with my mouth shut whenever she spun the Ikran upside down and sideways to avoid arrows, the claws, and the snapping beaks of enemy Ikran.

We crossed a forest and a mountain, climbing higher and higher into the air.

My pilot then reached between my legs, drawing her pistol as her two other hands steered our mount over the waterfall with the carved faces.

I saw her crane her neck around for a second, then she was firing shots over my shoulder.

Something behind me let out a shriek.

I heard an angry pig squeal, then several _somethings_ thumped into our ride, causing it to scream and rapidly lose altitude.

Ibira fired several shots, but they seemed to hit nothing, and our mount went into a frightful death spiral as more and more arrows hit home.

The events of the next brief moments passed so quickly that I had no time at all to process what was happening.

At some point, the dying Ikran took offense at the device stuck in its fin and knocked it off, sending it to the ground far below.

Then I was hanging upside down in the air, my green girlfriend clinging spider-like to its underbelly, her two free arms the only thing keeping me from a two or three hundred foot drop.

And then the creature bucked her off, and I found myself tilting ass over head, only processing flashes and bits of scenery as they sped past.

Sky.

Water.

Huge Ikran body.

Cliff.

Sky.

Tree.

Ibira's stomach.

Cliff.

Ikran body.

Water.

And then I felt a stinging slap as ice cold water exploded all around me.

In a panic, I blindly clawed and thrashed my way to the surface, so consumed with my own self preservation that I paid no attention to the struggling six limbed shape I kept scratching and kicking.

And then I found myself sprawled on a beach.

I ached all over, but it didn't feel like anything was broken.

With a groan, I sat up, slowly prying my eyes open.

The first thing I saw was a green figure sitting cross legged on a flat rock.

The moment our eyes met, she slapped me hard across the face.

"Ow!" I moaned, rubbing my injured cheek.

"That's for all that horseplay in the river," she growled.

"Sorry. I panicked. I thought I was going to die."

She sighed. "I thought I was too."

"Where are we?"

"I have no idea."

She stood up, staring into the wood.

"But I should be able to find a way back eventually. The pig sculptures are up north, and DOGOS is due south, I believe, though we may need to travel inland."

"Great," I groaned.


	64. Chapter 65: Opening Gambit

"Are you certain it was Ibira?" Sam asked the midget. "She never needs help."

"You want to listen to the recording?" Victor shrugged. "All I know is, either she sucks at holding down the fort, or we've got a lot more work cut out for us than we originally thought."

"She must be in some serious shit."

"Either that, or she really, really wants us to watch what she does in the bedroom."

Sam stuck out his tongue. "And me without a camera."

As the Hummer bumped over the ridge near the edge of the parking lot, Sam heard a loud pop, and the entire vehicle tilted downwards at an angle.

"Shit!"

Sam heard two more pops, and they suddenly had a lowrider, the whole cab and chassis rattling as they rolled over every rock, stick and clod of dirt.

The reddish exterior of the building came within view.

Only a few kilometers away from the parking lot, the rims got caught on something, and they came to a dead stop a yard or so from the concrete lip.

Sam heard a loud bellow, and a huge black shape rammed into the shell.

The Hummer teetered and fell on the passenger side with a thunderous bang.

"All right," Victor growled. "Now I'm pissed. Someone lift me up."

Shrugging, Sam popped open the door, which was now the roof, boosting his boss through the opening.

A second later, he heard a loud pop, and Victor was screaming and swearing so much that Sam, thinking something had happened, quickly brought him down again.

The midget seemed fine.

"The fuck?" he said as he wiped yellow slime off his face.

"What happened?"

"Hell if I know. One moment a Na'vi's coming after me with a knife, the next moment I see his head blow up."

Hearing a loud squeal, Sam looked out the back window and saw a blue figure with an AK-47 pantomiming that it were going to shoot someone off the side.

He saw the tie, and things started to make sense.

"Boss, I think the pig from the video wants to help us get out of here," he said.

"I don't trust that guy any further than I can throw him."

"Aw, give the guy a chance!"

They climbed out the driver's side doors amid the noisy pop of gunfire and squealing pigs.

Steve, being fat and weighted down with chain mail, took the longest to get out, but he was skilled with the gun and his armor deflected a surprise knife attack. He shot the creature before it could figure out how to stab through metal ringlets.

They ran across the field under the cover of gunfire, shooting at anything blue or growling.

When they reached the road, it seemed we had run out of enemies to fight. The path looked desolate, unoccupied by beasts of either the four legged or two legged variety.

And then they heard the squawk.

Sam whirled around, aiming his gun, but then he heard a voice crying, "Don't shoot! It's me!"

The creature landed, and a pair of figures clad only in leather harnesses, one green, the other pasty white and rather unsightly, climbed off/one with green skin, the other pasty white.

* * *

><p>Sam burst out laughing. "Jason! What the fuck! What the hell are you doing in that...thing?"<p>

I could feel my whole body blushing with shame. "My clothes fell off the Ikran."

"They were wet," Ibira said, adding to my embarrassment.

"So you borrowed her clothes?" Sam grimaced. "Forget it. I don't want to know. Just...don't wear that thing again. You make me want to claw my eyes out."

"Good luck on that one," said Victor. "Ever since he first arrived on the job, he's done nothing but parade around half naked. I don't even think his skirt is regulation length."

I was mortified, but I didn't try to argue.

Sam crossed his arms, staring at Ibira. "So what happened."

She told him the events that transpired after we had sex and went to sleep. He and the rest of the team had a little chat about this for a moment before addressing us again.

"C'mon. Let's get up to the building and set up a barricade."

As if someone read his mind, he saw a crowd of blue figures pushing their way out the revolving door in groups of threes and fours, accompanied by mobs of others who boldly ignored signs warning that alarms would sound if they pushed open the emergency doors.

They filed their way outside, the blue figures arranging themselves in neat rows in front of the main entrance, joined by dozens of others who had suddenly materialized out of the bushes.

After this. things got bizarre.

I saw animals bursting from the foliage and darting around the corners of the building to stand in line behind the Na'vi, the wolves with spikes on their back, equine creatures with no faces, giant eight eyed bears with no fur, huge hammerhead beasts, and clouds of jellyfish creatures that glowed in varying intensity as they floated in the air, all in perfect rows.

I saw them all around me, marching in lockstep as they filed their way into positions around the front parking area.

Hearing a thundering sound, I stepped aside just in time to avoid a stampeding hammerhead with glowing eyes.

I saw Sam pull a gun, but he didn't fire at it. The creature didn't even seem to notice he existed.

I could only stare as two others followed it, and four wolves, all blindly oblivious to my presence.

"What's going on?" I asked Sam.

"Beats the hell out of me."

Sam stared at the building, with its row upon row of beasts, all arranged in perfect order.

"Looks like a fucking chess set," he remarked.

He turned to face the midget. "What are we going to do now, boss? We're outnumbered and outgunned."

Victor paused, staring at the army. "If they're all up here, they're not hanging around the Hummer. C'mon, I got an idea."

He waved to his comrades, running into the bushes.

"C'mon! Before they start moving!"

As fast as they could, everyone in the team made a mad dash across the field, pried open the sideways back end of the Hummer, and loaded themselves up with guns, and ammunition., as well as a few grenades.

I and the pig with the tie got weapons. We locked, loaded and crept stealthily as we culd through the vegetation.

"What are we going to do?" Sam hissed. "There's thousands of them!"

"They're still not moving," said Victor. "Now is the perfect time to strike."

Ibira frowned. "It hardly seems fair to attack someone who isn't doing anything particularly threatening."

"Are you kidding! What part of knocking over your ride and surrounding your office building with a million thugs is not threatening!"

"We could always leave. Whatever or whoever it is seems to be giving us that option."

Victor slapped a cartridge into his machine gun. "I've spent my whole life getting bullied. I'm not going to put up with anyone's shit, especially not from some half baked mythical being from another planet!"

"Yeah," Sam laughed. "Because you've brought your own with you!"

The little man scowled at him. "Do I make fun of you for being an Atheist?"

"No?"

"Then shut up!"

I stared at the midget for a moment before realizing he probably used Company Chapel.

The next few moments were complete chaos.

It began with Victor running out of the bushes, hurling a grenade in the crowd of motionless figures.

As it exploded, I saw him strafing the front row, and the rest of the team joined in, firing at every target they saw.

After cutting down more than one hundred of them, everything fell apart.

All at once, this assembled army came to life, and I was knocked on my back by a rampaging hammerhead.

When I got to my feet, someone cut me, I shot back, and there was a pointy barb stuck in my leg, and a Viperwolf growling at me.

In the distance, I could see a half naked green figure stuck with porcupine barbs and a pair of arrows, and a fat figure in chain mail lying flat on the ground, apparently dead.

The midget was nowhere to be seen.

The blue figures swarmed all around us. We all fired, or tried to, but each of us either ran out of bullets, or we had our weapon taken from us by an attacker we were too distracted to see due to the crowd.

With extreme caution, I crept up the road, loading my gun.

That's when things got ten times worse.

Noting how it had suddenly gotten a lot darker, I looked up and saw a massive black shape rise above the building, casting such an immense shadow that it seemed like night had fallen.

The thing had the shape of a pterodactyl, like an Ikran, but larger than any one I'd ever seen, in fact, larger than the building itself.

Letting out a shriek louder than a semi truck horn, the thing swooped down on the field, shaking the very ground I stood upon.

When it opened its mouth, it belched flame, a blast equivalent to five to ten flame throwers going all at once.


	65. Chapter 66: Pasadena

I did a double take when I saw what was sitting on the top of the fire breathing creature's head.

For some inexplicable reason, I saw a tiny black man with an afro up there. This man appeared to have a microphone, but nobody around me could hear what he was saying.

After tapping the microphone and fiddling with something on his wrist, the entire army of creatures stood at attention, and I heard the deafening whine of stereo feedback.

The guy winced, the feedback faded, and a male voice echoed through the vocal cords of every creature in the entire enemy force. "Is this thing on? Mike check, one, two."

He practically ate the microphone as he said his next words.

"Ahem! Let this be a lesson to you motherfuckers! All this time I've been going easy on your asses. I let you live on my planet and pollute it with your fucking office buildings. I tolerated y'all up to a point. In fact, even now, when you have exceeded the limits of my benevolent mercy, I have not brouht my full wrath down upon you. Don't fuck with me!

"You hear me! You don't fuck with the goddess! If you know what's good for you, I'd leave! All of you! Get off my damn planet and I'll leave y'alls alone! If you need time, I'll give you time!

"In fact, leave this place and never return, and I'll forget this ugly incident ever happened! Begone now before I change my mind!"

In response, Victor ran across the parking lot, firing shots at the tiny little man mounted on the giant beast.

The guy swore, ducking out of the way, and then the Ikran's foot flicked him across the parking lot and into the field beyond like a paper football.

"Anyone else?"

* * *

><p>Brian hadn't felt so much a part of the team as he did right then. Not for a long time.<p>

When the army had stood in formation, he had joined in the strafing. When their enemies had gone into attack mode, he sowed confusion by making Na'vi warriors attack each other. He made some mistakes, ones resulting in painful wounds, cuts, bruises and quills stuck in various painful places, but then he heard the speech, and all bets were off.

The loud, obnoxious words blocked all other thoughts from his mind, and he had to stab himself in the arm just to stop his mouth from acting like a meat microphone.

That's it, he thought. I've had enough.

And he ran down the road in the direction of Hell's Gate, away from the battle.

"Hey!" he heard Sam shouting after him. "Where are you going!"

Brian only snorted and kept moving his legs.

"Coward!"

* * *

><p>"Nice try, Buckwheat!" Victor screamed as he brushed himself off and stood up. "Now how about you stop being a pussy and come down from there!"<p>

"Excuse me?" the voice boomed.

"You heard me! Come down and fight me like a man!"

"Oh yeah! You'd like me to do that now, wouldn't you. Get me down on the ground so you can pull some stupid asshole shit on me."

"That's right!" Victor screamed as he stomped back across the parking lot, shaking his fists. "Hide up there on top of your giant...thing! Apparently you're too much of a sissy faggot to come down here and beat up a midget! That's why you call yourself a goddess! It's because you're a limp wristed pussy!"

He cupped his hands around his mouth, shouting, "Faggot!"

The `goddess' responded by blasting him with a giant fireball that left Victor screaming and rolling around on the pavement in attempts to put his clothing out.

"We're going to need a bigger gun," Sam muttered.

* * *

><p>He'd parked the tank outside the base because he hadn't been able to wiggle it back into the bay. He'd left the key inside the building for safekeeping, and he knew where to find it.<p>

Within a few seconds, he had the thing running, and the treads were rolling sideways on an awkward course to the main road.

Since the thing was already going left, he shifted gears, doubling his speed.

Forty five miles per hour.

Fifty. The speedometer indicated that it could be raised another hundred notches before reaching the end of the dial.

He shifted again.

Sixty.

Sixty Five.

The treads rattled as it climbed to seventy. He had the steering control turned completely to the right to keep it going straight.

What are you doing? said the voice in his head.

Brian forced himself not to think about anything but the lyrics to _Good Vibrations_.

Seventy.

Seventy five.

Eighty.

He heard just about every part of the tank rattling in protest.

The voice sounded angry now. I don't know what you're doing, but you ain't getting away with it!

Brian's arms suddenly jerked, steering the tank far to the left. He felt one of the treads lift up into the air, and was almost certain that it would flip, but he eased off the speed a bit and it slammed back down.

_She's giving me good vibrations..._

Steering back to the center, he shifted gears again.

_She's giving me excitations..._

Eighty.

Eighty five.

Ninety.

And then he saw it. The building, guarded by all those animals, and that giant black fire breathing behemoth.

Turn back now! the voice commanded.

_Good, good, good, good vibrations..._

"I ain't playing! What the fuck are you doing!"

_She's giving me good vibrations..._

Ninety miles per hour.

Ninety five.

_Good, good, good..._

The seat and the whole cabin shook with the strain.

_Good vibrations..._

One hundred.

"Stop! What the fuck are you doing!"

_Dah dah dah dah dah dah dah...dah dah dah dah dah dah dah..._

"I order you to stop!"

His arms wanted to steer left, but he forced himself to ignore it, even when waves of searing pain coursed through his upper body like a grenade to the chest.

_Dah dah dah dah dah dah dah...oooooeeeeoooo..._

The front end of the tank made contact with the black body and kept rolling. On the monitor, he saw the revolving glass door with the windows surrounding it break and shatter into millions of tiny fragments, and then they were rolling through the lobby, knocking down the wood and marble guard station, sending the counter across the floor like a giant hockey puck.

The tank rolled on, plowing through the swivel chairs, the debris, the metal security gates with the swinging Plexiglas arms, the dark shape still attached to the front end, still screaming and clawing, making sounds like someone running a knife over corrugated tin.

Still, he held the wheel down, rolling across the ceramic tile floor, right into the tall spiral staircase with the large marble and aluminum steps.

His trajectory stopped abruptly as it slammed into a steel pole within the framework, but the large black shape did not, sailing through a wooden wall, into a large conference room, knocking over rows of tables and upholstered metal chairs as it rolled all the way to the back wall, breaking the windows as it created a huge crater in the wood and concrete.

For the next few minutes, he could hear nothing but the crashing and thundering sounds of the stairs collapsing on the tank.


	66. Chapter 67: Conference

He lost all visuals due to the cameras being destroyed, and he could only shift into reverse and wait for the rain of debris to end.

Once things had quieted to his satisfaction, he cautiously opened the lid and peered out.

The stairs and connecting balconies were now nothing but a huge pile of expensive rubble, something that would have been insurmountable to cross had the bank not decided on such spacious, airy architecture.

Pulling a rifle off a rack in in the rear of the compartment, he climbed out, narrowly avoiding cranial damage from a falling light fixture.

He hurried over to the mound of rocks and twisted aluminum, receiving cuts to his hands and knees as he passed over the jagged bits.

He found the afro man swaggering to his feet in the back of the conference room, bleeding from multiple wounds received during his little ride.

"You don't scare me," the `goddess' spat. "You're nothing but a smug preppie bastard with entitlement issues."

"I'm not going to let you tell me what to do," Brian snorted. "I live my own life."

"Hey, I didn't ask you to possess one of my pigs. You've been nothing but a literal pain in the ass to me. Do it, honey."

And then Brian felt someone slamming their fist into the back of his head.

He had been so busy focusing on hunting down the goddess that he hadn't noticed his pursuer, a Na'vi female. And not just any Na'vi female, the blind one that had helped him earlier. Trudy. His new wife. He saw her face when he fell to the floor, mentally kicking himelf for not watching his back.

When he got to his feet and turned around, he gazed apologetically into those dim looking eyes.

"Trudy, look. I'm sorry for dumping you, but I don't want to father your child, okay?"

Instead of replying, she just punched him in the face.

"So, uh, looks like you got that vision thing worked out, haven't you?"

She punched him in the stomach.

"The white gloves are off motherfucker," she said in the manly goddess's voice. "I see you..._in hell_!"

And then he found himself being hurled against the wooden paneling.

"Normally I wouldn't punch a girl, but today I'll make an exception!"

He cuffed her in the face, then kicked her in the stomach, knocking her to the floor.

She responded by biting his ankle until it gushed blood.

He screamed and kicked with a hoof, but she somehow knocked him to the floor, and then she was sitting on his stomach, punching him in the face. "You're going to die, motherfucker!"


	67. Chapter 68: Showdown

Brian really didn't want to kill Trudy. Despite all her defects, she was by far the best thing he had on this horrible, inhospitable hell of a planet.

There had to be another way.

Another fist slammed into his face, and then a strong hand clamped itself around his neck, slowly choking the air out of him.

Brian had one arm free, but it was busy trying to push Trudy's arm away, and it felt more like a piece of iron than a biological thing. His other arm was pinned to the ground by her other arm, and the `goddess' seemed to be using some power to deaden the responsiveness to his legs.

"You know, there's one thing about you I just don't get," the alien voice growled through the female. "You seem to be a man who has spent most of his adult life ingesting fermented beverages and destroying brain cells. What makes this any different, other than the speed you lost them?"

"Dammit!" Brian cried. "That's not the same! It's not supposed to happen all at once!"

He shoved the female away, giving her a swift kick for good measure.

Trudy stopped attacking for a moment, crouching for the next strike.

"Isn't it? Having sex you can't remember? Waking up in places you don't remember? Vomiting? Need I go on?"

"Normally those are fun things I enjoyed doing."

"Well," the `goddess' laughed. "Maybe your ass is grown up!"

Brian sighed.

"Of course, if you want to breathe in that powder again, I might be able to arrange something more to your liking..."

"Fuck you."

"No sir. I did an operation on myself so that old practice would no loner be necessary."

"Why do I even bother talking to you?"

The man shrugged. "Because I'm the only one who can speak your language? Anyways, you're dead!"

And Trudy threw him into a wall, hammering him with her fists.

Brian landed one solid punch to her jaw, but then her tail whipped out and his hooves were knocked out from under him.

Again he lay on the floor, fighting off those hands of iron.

"Is there a real female Na'vi in there anywhere?" Brian snorted. "That one that was so alone, and nobody wanted to be with her? The one that was so afraid?"

The female blinked several times, looking confused.

"You're only talking to me, asshole. This woman is my idea!"

Suddenly seized with an idea, Brian plugged his hair into hers.

"What the fuck are you doing!" said a voice in his head, but he ignored it, digging through the other mind like one would dig through a dusty attic.

His mind found a presence there, and it wasn't the nasty voice.

The presence seemed likea glowing orb in this attack, an orb emitting a warm glow and a feel like a heartbeat as it registered him being there.

It emitted joy, and questions, longing and worriment, and fear at what was going on externally.

He quietly promised he'd make things up to her.

Who's Sally? she thought.

Someone from another life, he thought back. He sent her a mental image of a door being slammed shut and locked behind him.

Oh.

But then, in real life, she slapped him.

Sorry! It's not me. I love you.

And then she punched him.

"Bastard! How dare you toy with my emotions!"

She unplugged her hair, bloodying his face.

"Forgive me," Brian snorted, and he rammed her head into the wall.

As the female got to her feet, he noticed the `goddess' waving his hands around like a puppeteer.

"That's it!" Brian snarled, clenching his fists. "You're going down!"

"Hold it!" he heard a voice shout. "Me and him have some unfinished business!"

Brian whirled his head around and saw a small bald figure stomping up to the guy, bloody from several wounds, small but calloused fists clenched and ready for business.

"How'd you like that little ride across the parking lot, motherfucker?"

"On a scale from one to ten?" Victor said, slamming a fist into his palm. "One being the Teacup Ride at Disneyland and ten being You're Really Starting to Piss Me Off? I'd say it's a YAAAH!" And he charged at the `goddess' in a blind rage.

What followed was an undignified midget brawl, with baby fists and baby feet flying here and there, neither one seeming to gain the advantage.

Brian's amusement was cut short by a fist to the face.

He frowned. If he's over there fighting Victor, then how is she fighting me?

He tried to grab her, but she took advantage of the situation, hurling him against the wall and kicking him.

With an angry pig roar, he charged at her, knocking her to the ground.

Instead of fighting back, the female pressed her snout up to his and kissed him.

His ears stuck straight up in surprise, and he returned the favor, plugging his hair into hers.

So there is someone in there after all, he thought.

Yes. I'm sorry for what I've done. It's not your fault.

I love you, Brian thought. It was an unfiltered thought, one that he possibly would regret thinking, but it wasn't like a verbal statement that he could just mask with a joke or bury under witty banter.

As she shared his eyes, she noticed him admiring her, and tears rolled down around her snout as his mind associated the visual with concepts of beauty and high esteem. She'd never seen herself this way.

She grinned, and he could feel her being overwhelmed with joy.

Her smile faded when he responded with feelings of fright, mistrust and intense dread.

His power is lifting, Trudy thought. Look.

Brian looked to his side just in time to see Victor deliver a knockout blow to the `goddess'' face.

With puffy, bloodied lips, blackened eyes, and a bruised face, the `goddess' sat up.

As the midget hurriedly snatched up a pair of scissors left by a training class, the man growled, "If you kill me, you'll wish you hadn't. I'm the only one who knows how to run this planet. Without me, you all will die."

"We'll manage," said Victor. "We got here without your help, so we can leave without your help."

"You people are a plague! A fucking blight on the universe! What will happen when you run out of places to kill, rape, and otherwise destroy? One of these days, when you finish killing Mother Nature, you're going to wake up and find out that you can't live without her."

"I guess we'll have to cross that bridge when we come to it." Victor clenched his fist around the scissors. "Besides. Mother Nature is a woman!"

And he stabbed him to death with the scissors.

"Never believed that bullshit anyway."


	68. Chapter 69: Sandbank

The moment the little man with the afro stopped breathing, the building and everything in it shook in the throes of a giant earthquake.

What's going on? Brian thought to the female.

_The goddess is dead. The world is ending._

Is there anything we can do?

_No. Without the goddess, we have no life._

"Hey! Guys!" Brian heard Victor calling. "This place is falling apart! Let's get out of here!"

Brian just snorted and waved at him dismissively.

Victor shook his head. "It's uncanny."

And he left them, climbing over of the mountain of debris.

I saw the place where she used to live, he thought. It was north of our tribe.

He sent her an image of the computer lab he'd found.

In response, he got a sense that he'd violated something sacred to her religious beliefs.

He also sensed that she was reading his anger, his skepticism, and this in turn was causing her to question the sacredness of that lab.

Still, she resisted.

I think I can operate these things. Please. Is there another place like this?

His mind filled with mystical signs, apparently only understood by touch, though occasional glimpses of blue paint on wood had been absorbed, like how even a broken headphone cord can spit out the occasional sound when you bend it just right.

A star at the end of a circle with a cross through it.

The south pole? he mentally asked.

She laughed at his image of Santa Claus and penguins.

Sorry.

He visualized the planet and an arrow pointing to the bottom.

She gasped. _It is round!_

Brian sighed. Please, he thought. Do you know anything more about where the goddess lives?

She drew a line through the penguins. _Not that far._

He stood her up, pushing her out of the way just a moment before a huge chunk of the ceiling fell down on them.

_We must go._

Where?

_Out._

He saw a white flash, then he heard her think, _I have an idea. Follow me. _And she unplugged her hair, climbing over the pile of rubble.

He followed her that way, and as she crossed the partially destroyed tile floor, he thought he could see glowing footprints burning in the very spots where she walked.

When she stepped outside, through the shattered front entrance, he saw her body glow.

Starting from the back, it spread outwards. Glowing hands, glowing hair, glowing hooves, glowing butt. At times it would leave her normal, but at other times it would turn her into a walking light.

She waved her hand, and a glowing caterpillar the size of an aircraft carrier burst from the concrete parking lot, and she climbed up on its hairs, waving for him to do the same.

He found his way up to its back, standing with her as the creature scuttled forward with incredible speed, thundering, presumably, to the summer home of the `goddess.'

* * *

><p>When the tank rammed into the giant Ikran, the entire army seemed to freeze into place.<p>

Hearing a loud mechanical grinding sound, I had glanced down the road, staring in amazement as the tank from Hell's Gate with the leftward veer barreled up the dirt road with the speed of a race car, plowing the big black thing right through the glass entrance.

Glass exploded from everywhere as it hit the front entrance, then it flew backwards through the lobby, banging its head on an overhanging ceiling piece.

Seconds later, it hit the stairs, and the building collapsed on them.

At this point, the army of enemy combatants froze in place.

Then I saw the midget retrieve his gun from a frozen Na'vi, rushing in after them.

As Victor neared the mound of debris, a group of blue figures jumped him, and he ran out of ammo defending himself.

After stabbing the last one in the neck with its own knife, I saw him toss the gun aside, and he was climbing over the mountain of broken tile and metal scrap, disappearing into the dark.

"Here," said a voice. "Let me look at your wounds."

And then a green hand was cutting off the ends of an arrow from my leg with a laser knife while others casually yanked quills out of my other limbs.

The shaft came out, and she was shoving wiggling larvae into the wound.

"Hey, uh, wait," I protested. "I don't know if I want those things that far down inside my body."

"Relax. It will only be cleaning your wounds. It is not unheard of on your planet to use maggots for this purpose."

"It's not unheard of to use leeches, either, but it's not something I specifically ask for when I go to see the doctor!"

"You did not complain when I did this earlier."

"Yeah," I muttered, red faced. "But that was just for minor surface cuts."

"This is the most efficient process for removing wood splinters and preventing gangrene."

As the maggots did their work, she rubbed a salve on my quill wounds, making me wince with the burning sensation.

"You were very brave," said Ibira. "So much like a Bilwobi novice on a Lellobog hunt."

"Novice?" I frowned. "That doesn't sound that impressive."

She shrugged.

A sudden tremor threw us both to the ground.

The planet rumbled, and fissures appeared in the soil.

I saw a split worthy of the House of Usher develop on the side wall of the building, shattering every window along the divide.

A few minutes later, I heard someone shout, "Back to base! Pronto! Hurry! This planet's going to blow!"

Then I, Ibira, Victor and the rest of the team were running down the road, with Snaker taking up the rear as he called for the pickup.

All around the path, the ground trembled and caved in as all kinds of alien creatures writhed on the ground in convulsions.

Narrowly avoiding a chasm, we continued on until we saw the front end of the truck appear on the horizon.

As the object drew nearer, we could see an elfin face behind the windshield, its four fingered hands clutched tightly around the wheel. The mascara streaks running down the sides of her face told volumes about her emotional state.

As it rolled to a stop, I heard a happy squawking sound, and then I found myself being licked all over.

"Dino!" I laughed.

And then it peed on me.

"Oh wonderful!" I cried in disgust.

The creature didn't care. It just perched on my shoulder and licked my head.

When the door came open, the driver took one sniff and told me to ride in the truck bed, and so I did. I and Ibira climbed in, resting against the tool box as we watched Dino flitting happily about in the air behind the moving truck.


	69. Chapter 70: Evac

Author's note: I revised chapter 62. The sneezing is explained there.

00000000000

Gathering speed, the truck barreled down the quaking dirt road, swerving wildly to avoid holes and widening fissures.

About a mile from the the DOGOS facility, the front left tire got stuck in the edge of a growing chasm, and we all had to jump out of the sinking vehicle as the soil spread its gaping maw to swallow us.

We ran the rest of the way back to the building.

The office showed only minor signs of seismic damage.

When we got inside, the only noticeable effect seemed to be disorganized furniture, things rolling off tables, and pictures knocked off the walls.

"Wow," I said. "We must have escaped the fault!"

Sam leaned a picture against the wall. "Actually, our shielding can reduce an 4.2 shockwave to a 2.2."

"It's still dangerous," said Victor.

He stomped over to the office phone on the breakroom wall, dialing an extension.

"Hey, it's me. Listen. We gotta move this building. Pronto. Or we're all dead meat. You got me? Dead!" He paused. "This isn't a drill! If you value your life, get that shit going down there!"

I stared at him. "We're leaving?"

"Shh!" Sam hissed. "Yeah. I know. Ordinarily we wouldn't leave, but the place is getting unstable."

I sighed, plopping down on a sofa, resting my weary half naked body. Ibira joined me on the adjacent cushion.

Sam frowned at me. "Great. Now we're going to have to disinfect that," he groaned. "Do me a favor and put some fucking clothes on!"

As if in response, I felt Ibira resting her head on my shoulder, her scaly green hand sliding its way up my thigh.

"I think I'm going to be sick." With an expression of disgust, he whirled around, quickly marching away.

All of a sudden, Ibira broke into a sneezing fit.

"Again?" I said.

She shook her head. "Immune system, you said."

I gulped as my mind turned over the possibilities. "You don't think..."

"I don't know what to think. I think I'll go see Sal about it later."

"Look. We got a probe set up," Victor barked at the receiver. "I'm only asking for a brief jaunt. We could go to a nearby satellite. I don't really care. We just need out of here until this earthquake is over."

Snaker was seated at one of the break room tables, smoking a cigarette.

Victor angrily jabbed a finger in his direction. "Hey! Put that out! Just because the world is ending doesn't mean you can break DOGOS smoking policy!"

Snaker took a long drag. "Actually, that's hell of a good reason to break it."

A second later, I saw stars and rocky craigs outside the window. The tremors immediately stopped.

Snaker furrowed his brow as he glanced at me. "Hey, don't you have services today?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. I was busy."

And then I jumped out of my seat.

"What is it?" Ibira asked.

"The church is outside the building!"

"Isn't there some sort of life support - oh." She frowned.

I paled. It might already be too late.


	70. Chapter 71: Substitution

Concerned about the well being of my fellow believers, I ran back to my sleeping quarters, threw some clothes over my harness, and ran to the entrance of the tunnel leading to the church.

When I got there, I found a young blond man and a young golden haired woman, both in skirts, praying in front of a wall of gray rock.

The moment there was a break in their prayers, I asked them what was happening.

"We were late for service," said the guy. "We both got stuck on long calls. I think everyone else is down on Pandora in the quake zone. Would you mind joining us in prayer?"

It seemed there was nothing else I could really do to help. With a shrug, I grabbed a pair of hands and joined them in praying for the churchgoers' safety.

"Your mouth is moving but your mind is unfruitful," the man muttered.

"Cal!" the woman cried.

"What. I can't help it. He was thinking about the harness he has on under his clothing, then about-"

"Are you reading a sin?" she asked.

Cal nodded. "I will leave it to him to confess what he has done."

_Jason,_ a voice said inside my mind. _You know in your heart that you have done what is wrong._

My thoughts replayed what Ibira said about it being pointless for me to marry a space alien.

_Your conscience betrays you, _the voice said.

"Do you wish to confess?" the girl asked.

I felt violated. My face turned a bright red. I realized that if I asked them if they knew about the board room table and they hadn't known, I'd make it even worse for myself, so I couldn't bring myself to ask what they meant.

I swallowed. "Uh...I don't feel comfortable with that right now. I will...confess it to the Lord."

"Yes," they said in unison. "You should."

"God gives you this freedom."

But then the man and the woman stared at each other as they held hands, apparently communicating something else to one another without words.

"Seriously," I said. "You don't want to know."

"Agreed," Cal groaned. "I wish I hadn't-"

This resulted in him getting elbowed by his companion.

"Are you guys telepaths?"

They nodded.

"How did you guess?" Cal grinned.

Noting my angry, embarrassed reaction, he quickly added, "I'm sorry. I should have worn gloves. I didn't think about it."

"Fornication is a sin, you know," the female said.

"Karen?" Cal blurted. "I thought-"

"The damage has already been done. We should at least confront our brother on the error of his ways."

I swallowed. "Seriously. We're having this conversation."

"Your decisions are unwise. It is only proper for us to tell you this so that you may know what is good and proper before the Lord."

"I..." I shot him a pleading glance, but saw no visual signs of wavering in his conviction. "I mean, even if it's physically impossible for a child to come out of it, you still want me to marry first?"

"Humans use the same argument for premarital sex using contraceptives," said Karen. "And you doubtless agree that this is not right."

"It's not like that at all," I protested. "You know she's not my species. It's not like something can spring a leak and accidentally cause a pregnancy. We're physically unable!"

Karen's eyes bore down on me, dark blue eyes seeming to reach far into my soul. "Are you sure."

I backed away, reeling with guilt and shame and indignant anger.

Before our confrontation could progress any further, the wall vanished, and the tunnel suddenly reappeared.

"What just happened?" I said.

"The earthquake stopped. I guess we're out of danger."

Cal stepped through the opening. "C'mon. Let's go check on the others."

And I followed the two down the tunnel.

I found the congregation kneeling beside a giant pile of rubble.

As I came closer, I caught a glimpse of a honey brown female body pinned beneath the rocks.

When I reached the side of the mound, I recognized who it was. Osmifa.

A refrigerator sized rock had crushed her leg to pieces, a second boulder, the size of an engine block demolishing her spine and rib cage.

"Osmifa," I whispered.

Cal frowned. "It's Grobe I'm worried about."

"She saved my life," a fat black woman sobbed. "She saw the rocks coming, but I didn't. I was too busy playing with my phone."

I wondered what app she'd been playing with, but it seemed inappropriate to ask.

"She was a good host," said a man with the skin color of overcooked steak.

I stared at him, trying to make sense of the incomprehensible symbols tattooed on his neck. "Are you from her planet or something?"

The man smirked. "How could I not be?"

This did nothing to clear up my bafflement. "I don't follow."

"I'm Osmifa," he said. "You are looking at my dear friend Tanjaga Sanjay. When he saw me dying, he volunteered to be my temporary host."

"I see," I frowned. "So where did you meet originally?"

"I got acquainted with this new host body here. He'd just getting used to it, so he'll probably need some time to adjust. I already made him throw up once, and he's understandably nervous about me rearranging his most private thoughts and memories."

I rolled my eyes. "I would be nervous too."

Osmifa (or possibly Tanjaga) laughed in response.

"Grobe was a good host, sacrificially allowing me to stay in her cranial cavity, always keeping her body physically fit and free of contaminants, never complaining about me being there, never asking me to leave..."

I sighed, feeling somewhat disgusted at myself for kissing something that was now a guy. I kept telling myself it used to be female, but it didn't help.

"Tanjaga." I said it as a statement, not a question. I still had difficulty accepting the idea that Osmifa was gone and this thing, this whatever, was now occupying a dude.

"Please. Call me Osmifa."

I nodded. "Fine. Osmifa."

"Did you want something?"

I shook my head. "Never mind."

To my surprise, I saw Victor waddling up to the debris with a futuristic version of the Jaws of Life clutched in his hands, wedging it beneath the rocks.

He pushed some buttons and it lifted the boulder.

Equally shocking, I saw a green figure walk past me, shoving the other boulder off of Grobe's leg.

"Quick," said Victor. "Someone move the body. I don't know how long this will hold."

Ibira, Tanjaga, and my two telepathic companions carefully moved her out, and the rock slammed back to the ground, flicking the Jaws away with its immense weight.

Still shocked beyond words, I marched up to Ibira and managed to make myself say, "What are you doing here?"

She shrugged. "I am not devoid of compassion. I heard Grobe was in trouble, so I came. You do not approve?"

I smirked. "No, it's fine. I was just curious."

"Because I am not a Christian."

"Yes."

Cal gave me a sideways glance that reminded me of another way I was morally in error. That little line about not being joined together in marriage with a heathen. Of course, then again, I still didn't know if space alien souls needed saving.

"Normally I wouldn't be here," she said. "But someone ran up to me and said they needed help. I would have liked to have been here under more pleasant circumstances, but I've been too busy lately. I would very much like to watch a Christian service, just to see what it's like."

She started sneezing again.

She visibly shivered, rubbing her arms with her two other ones. "It's cold down here."

I frowned. It wasn't that cold. "Are you all right?"

"Why wouldn't I be all right?"

I shook my head. "I don't know."

She rubbed her tusks against my cheek. "You're sweet."

I watched as Grobe's body was wrapped in cloths by a group of my coworkers, then followed it as they carried it down a tunnel to a cavern containing a series of rock shelves like an ancient mausoleum.

As they laid the body on one of these shelves, a pair of squatty creatures with big bat ears and fat torpedo noses waddled out of a connecting tunnel with medical instruments, injecting fluids into the cadaver.

"Are they embalming her?"

Osmifa nodded. "I don't understand how cremated and embalmed bodies can be brought back to life at the resurrection, but we are not expected to understand every mystery."

Soon I was surrounded by other Christians, dressed in formal clothes and uniforms, and Osmifa led the congregation in a funeral service.

When our meeting had concluded, Ibira muttered something about a pounding headache and going to see Sal about it.

I returned to my quarters and tried to sleep the best I could, but it was difficult. I'd gone through a lot of weird stuff in the last few days, and the nightmares would wake me just minutes after I closed my eyes.

At least I didn't sleepwalk.


	71. Chapter 72: JF-1

The following morning at breakfast, I found Ibira huddled under a thick wrapping of white animal pelts, staring into a bowl of soup. She hardly noticed me when I seated myself at her table.

"Wow," I said. "Are you all right?"

She looked up at me with a pitiful face, shaking her head. "I...don't know. I...feel sick."

Her tongue shot into the soup, and I saw a couple holes opening in its tip, sucking in the brown liquid like a straw.

"I didn't know you could do that!" I said.

She grinned, then wiped her runny nose on one of the skins.

"You have holes in your tongue."

She grimaced. "You did not notice this when it was in your mouth?"

"N-no," I stammered. "I mean, I felt bumps, or depressions, or whatever, but I didn't put two and to together."

She sneezed. "In retrospect, I should have not ingested so much of your mucus and saliva."

I paled. "I'm not sick. I have a clean bill of health. Do you really think that's what it is?"

"I do not know. Perhaps I am only ill from falling in the river. It was very cold."

She wrapped her furs tighter.

My heart broke just thinking about it. "You think you'll be okay?"

"I don't know. I took some fiquajko for the headache last night, because aspirin makes our kind break out, but my head still hurts. I might have to take more." She slurped up more soup.

Dino whimpered sympathetically.

I got up, wrapping my arms around her.

"Don't," she said in a voice that sounded sore. "You might catch...whatever it is."

"Who's to say I don't already have it?"

Four arms wrapped around me, then retreated into the skins.

"You're not going home yet," she managed with a cough. "The building's still intact. They're going to..." She broke into a coughing fit.

"Spare your voice," I muttered.

She curled one hand around my arm. "You're a good man. I'm glad you chose me as xajogah." And she coughed some more.

We finished our breakfast in silence.

The Ikran, seemingly wary of her illness, did not lick my girlfriend, but still attempted to cheer her up by nuzzling his face against hers. It made me smile for a moment.

Ibira drained her bowl, her tongue making a noise like a wet macaroni straw attempting to slurp the remains of a shake out from the corner of a plastic cup.

She glanced at her timepiece. "We should get to work."

As she stood up, she wobbled on her feet, so I gently pushed her back down.

"No," I said. "You should rest."

She rubbed her tusk against my cheek. "I would be honored to have you as my jeddak."

I stared at her for a moment before my inner geek showed up. "That's a chieftain, right?"

She nodded.

She gave me a gentle push with one hand, gesturing me away with the other. "You'll miss work."

"I just want to make sure you're okay."

She swallowed a lump in her throat. "I'll be fine. I'll take sick leave and stay in bed. Now go!"

And so I hurried along to the call center.

Work was frustrating as usual. I got written up for reading someone else's account information and documenting the wrong file, but when you see two giant black spider creatures with octopus legs in a succession, it's difficult to tell such things apart, especially when the computer runs across a glitch that throws the previous account back at you.

As usual, my boss believed none of this.

Honestly, I couldn't imagine what would happen if I had gotten fired from such a job, but I was two strikes away from finding out.

It was a rough week. Having no more crazy adventures to go on, I got no reprieve from my customer service duties. I could only watch the video feeds from Dino and his brother (formerly my ride), observing the slow process of reconstructing the U.S. Bank building. From what I could tell, it was going to be months.

From what I heard, the bodies had been cleared out. The small handfuls of Na'vi that had been in the building (and hadn't been crushed to death), and the others in the parking lot had stumbled away from the place like blind cattle shortly after things started falling apart, so progress was unobstructed.

Every day around lunch and dinner, I would visit Ibira in the female quarters, but she was often asleep or generally looking miserable under her huge piles of heavy skins and blankets as she used up boxes of tissues and drank soup.

The cocoon of blankets partially covered her from the chest down, concealing the full extent of her malady.

At other times, I couldn't even get in the room because someone or another was changing clothes or otherwise doing something that was `girls only.' I suggested a dressing screen for the former, but they preferred I cede to their wishes rather than the other way around.

Only once did I see Ibira away from her bed.

I was going into the garden to dispose of a fecal puck when she passed by me in a hurry, her face drawn and pale.

Once of the tentacled gardeners told me she'd been spending a lot of time in there, late at night, praying under her blanket of skins, but they clammed up when I attempted to delve further.

And so I spent a great deal of time sitting outside or in the upstairs break room with Harry, silently watching the jungle.

Something weird was going on, something both I and Harry could attest to as we observed it.

The weather was getting a lot more comfortable, less humid and balmy, and oddly earthlike flowers were popping up everywhere,

The `lollipop' things we'd seen earlier had somehow turned blue and glowing, and when the Na'vi guy from the lab analyzed their composition, he discovered they actually had the chemical properties of gum, sugar and corn syrup, rather than what they used to have.

Still, I refused to touch the stuff, not even when I saw girls in the building strolling around and blowing bubbles. Like me, none of the other men were nearly brave enough to try them, so it became sort of a girl thing to do.

Also I could almost swear that the newest meat we acquired from the jungle tasted like pizza, despite it coming off an animal's rib cage.

None of us knew what to think of all these things, but there were plenty of theories.

One day, as I was beginning my normal work shift, Grace from H.R. pulls me out of the call room just as I'm logging in, and I'm being led to her back office on the floor below.

I cringed as she closed the door, gesturing for me to take a seat.

That's when I remembered I had been wearing a tracking device this whole time, and she probably observed everything I ever did during the last two weeks.

I guess I knew that before, but I kind of thought it reassuring that my position was being tracked in case I got into trouble, but...

"Does this have anything to do with me and Ibira?" I blurted.

She laughed and shook her head. "I know you two are having sex. I saw the heart fluctuations and the dopamine spikes."

"Did your monitors show what that stuff was that Ibira shot into me while we were..._you know_?"

She shrugged. "We could only identify an increase of proteins. We'd have to do a blood test to get further data."

"You think it might be dangerous? I mean, her stuff?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. You might want to ask someone in the med lab...Though I'm not certain if they'll have any helpful information, as they have no basis for comparison."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Congratulations," she said humorlessly. "You're a sexual pioneer."

I swallowed. "Uh...it's a little soon to fire me. I only got written up once."

She nodded. "This is something else, Jason."

I sat up a little straighter. "You know my girlfriend killed that thing that was in my head."

"Yes," she frowned. "I spoke to Ibira about that earlier. She caused me an enormous inconvenience in researching the Gizhake tribe."

"I'd say I was sorry, but your...thing would probably show I was lying."

She set a chrome cube on the table, and a holographic bust of a frilled lizard with spider eyes frowned at me. "Are you Jason Finch?"

I nodded, feeling a sinking sensation in my stomach.

"We found you and your Qozisa companion stealing out of Heuristic Kitchen last week. Our security cameras caught you eating food from the racks without paying for them. You can either pay the $7.25 now or we will be forced to pursue other legal options."

I stared at the face in disbelief. "Seriously? That stuff expired, like, a year ago! Those muffins were blue!"

"Blueberry," the face growled.

"No! _Penicillin_ blue! This is ludicrous!"

"Food is food. We paid good money for it, and we just want our return. Now how would you like this divided up? Fifty fifty between you and the Qozisa? Or do you want to be a gentleman and take up the entire tab, plus the added expense of replacing the equipment you sullied with that disgusting animal sludge?"

"Kiss my ass," I spat.

Grace sucked in her breath. The face lurched back in surprise.

"I'm sorry?"

"You're just a crummy vending machine guy, and we were in the middle of a war. Kiss it."

The creature cleared his throat, then indignantly replied, "This is just a courtesy communication to inform you that you may choose either termination with temporary imprisonment, or automatic deductions from your paycheck to compensate for loss of goods and destruction of equipment. You have twenty four hours to comply or the decision will be made for you."

And the hologram vanished.

Grace sighed. "That went well."

After grudgingly agreeing to fork over roughly a thousand dollars, in installments, for a cooler replacement, plus $7.75 for the stale chips plus added interest, the matter was resolved.

A few days later, I found a child sized figure and a taller one shoving me awake.

"Wake up, lover boy," Victor said. "Girlfriend's in trouble."

Quickly, I followed them down the hallway, until I was in the med lab, standing next to a hospital bed.

Ibira looked pale, sickly, her muscles sagging, her arms like skeleton limbs. They had her on a saline drip, with a blood monitor, EKG, oxygen, the whole nine yards.

I turned to the elf doctor with a frown. "What's going on here? What's wrong with her?"

Sal sighed. "I've done some blood tests, and it seems that your spermatozoa is acting like a T-cell. A culture from her noafwi indicates that your semen released hundreds of them, but her body wasn't prepared for it.

"They invaded every egg on her zorinida, but instead of making babies, your chromosomes turned them into nasty little self replicating miniature zygotes that attack white blood cells.

"Okay, so they're not white, they're blue, but they're her immune system. It's like an alien version of the AIDS virus, so she's probably dying from the common cold."

I suddenly felt sick to my stomach.

"This facility is stocked with contraceptives for a reason. It's a good thing Ibira is a Qozisa, an outcast of her people, or her father would have dragged you out into the desert and cut all your fingers off."

"Please," I begged. "Isn't there something you can do to help her?"

The look on her face said no. "We're still working on the regular AIDS virus and you ask me to cure your own homebrew version?

"I mean, sure, we gave her antibiotics, but I'm not sure if they'll help with all those Jason cells in the way.

We've discussed using some late term spermicidal medications, or the morning after pill, but we thought it would be fatal as trying it on a human in a late stage of pregnancy. Your cells are all over her body, so it's doubtful even that would work.

"At one point we even considered radiation treatment, but I don't think that will do anything but make her tusks fall off."

I stared helplessly at my green lover shivering under a thick layer of animal hides, coughing and blowing her nose.

"At least the vomiting has stopped," Sal muttered. "it was so hard to mop up that we actually had to use a paint scraper to get it off the tiles."

Nobdar approached the bed from the other side. He seemed indifferent to the whole situation. "As Sal stated previously, you've basically given her the alien version of HIV. Your sperm is using the DNA replicating factories of her cells to replicate and form more and more zygotes (actually micro zygotes) instead of actually forming an embryo. We've been discussing ways to shut down her ribosomes to delay the spread, but we haven't found a way to do this without killing her."

"I'm leaning towards calling it the Jason Finch Disease," I heard someone muttering beside my knee. "Or maybe JF-1."

I scowled at the midget. "I don't want a disease named after me!"

"Tough. You're the poster boy for this disease. You're the only one who spread it, so it's only fitting."

To my great discomfort, I also noticed Sam had sneaked up on me. "I was thinking we should name it Tiberius or Kirk's disease. Of course, we might want to call the latter T-Kirk's disease or we'll offend someone who knows German."

"Kirk sounds fine," Victor said. "The other one sounds too nerdy. Of course, I'm still partial to JF-1. Kind of has that swine flu type of ring to it, don't you think?"

"The T can also stand for T-cell," Sam persisted.

I pretended this conversation was not happening.

"What if she gets a blood transfusion?"

Sal laughed. "From who? You? That would only kill her quicker. And even if we had a real Qozisa to donate some, and their blood type actually matched, your mini zygotes spread too fast. They'd never fully exit, and would probably latch on to the new blood the moment it came in."

"What about dialysis?" I fumbled.

She shook her head in apparent disbelief. "Do me a favor, _Doctor Finch_. Stay out of med school. You're not any good at it."

Ibira croaked something unintelligible, reaching out for me, so I leaned closer.

She wrapped her arms around me and kissed me.

"Human, I love you, even though it has been the death of me."

"I...love you too, Ibira," I sighed.

"I feel this is...punishment for our unnatural act."

I didn't deny the possibility. "Maybe so."

"My goddess does not offer forgiveness like yours."

I swallowed. "Really?"

She nodded. "Can your god forgive me?"

"I don't know. It's not in the bible. You're a space alien."

Tears rolled down her cheeks. "I'm scared, Jason. Please. Say a prayer for me, or with me. Beg your god for forgiveness from this wrong we have done."

I swallowed. "We have a story about a man who lost a baby he had from an affair. It died, but he repented and his next son lived."

"That does not comfort me."

"Do you believe in souls?"

"Yes."

"An afterlife?"

"Yes."

"My god forgives people and lets them enter His kingdom where there are many mansions and the end of all tears."

"That sounds wonderful," she sniffled. "Let's pray."

Ibira pointed all four hands at her chest. "What do I pray about?"

"Confess your sins...to God."

"I would betray Iss."

"What good is she if she won't forgive you?"

"I do not wish to commit apostasy for a comforting lie."

"Lie? You're calling the driving force of my entire life a lie?"

"No," she said quietly. "But it did not stop you from committing this grave sin."

"I...God gave us free will. I chose wrongly, but the faith is true regardless of my flaws."

"I will pray."

And then she poured out a long confession, which included multiple offenses that my God didn't care about, such as missing the feast of Ejezbu, not doing the prayer of Avzaxom the right amount of times with the right thoughts, touching a sacred Rezorat, ingesting Vilpetria juice, befriending a Yedlaxir and other things that seemed rather silly.

After explaining those weren't sins, and one was even being racist, he plead for her in prayer, then confessed his own sins related to her illness, begging for mercy.

I looked up at Sal. "How much longer does she have?"

"Not long, I'm afraid. Her whole body is shutting down."

I sighed, laying my head on her chest.

"I see Eitilaysia, and Seebaran and Levida," Ibira croaked. "They are standing around this bed."

I glanced up in confusion. I only saw the doctors, and Sam. I wasn't sure what she was seeing, but it wasn't what I saw.

"Fa-mily. They are all here."

"They are?"

She nodded, but I could see it took some effort. "The ones that died. They are waiting for me."

I couldn't think of anything to say in response. I suddenly felt ill.

"I see a woman of your species," she whispered. "She looks...like you. I think she is...relative."

A chill ran up my spine.

"I...I also see strangers. A woman...human, in a robe. She has stars for a crown."

This made me feel even worse.

"A man...with holes in his wrists."

Sacrilege! My mind thought. But she was dying, so I didn't protest.

"I think you're in good company," I stammered.

"They say...you are immature."

"All of them?"

She nodded.

I shrugged. "I am."

"They say to not ignore the promptings of your religious texts, or your conscience, and you will grow as a zesmadac."

"What's that?"

She didn't reply. She just laid her head back.

"If we meet again in heaven, could we go out sometime? For ice cream?"

"Um..." I felt like crying, but I choked it back. "Sure," I nearly sobbed. I couldn't bring myself to say more.

Her last words were, "Butter scotch."


	72. Chapter 73: Mr Qurtoth

Author's note: I revised Ibira's description in chapter 11, because otherwise this part wouldn't make sense.

* * *

><p>I stared at Ibira's frail lifeless body for a minute or two, then I could take no more.<p>

I sobbed, tears trickling down my face as I hurried out of the room.

I slumped against the wall a few yards down and wept.

"What's wrong, Jason?" I heard a female voice saying.

Looking up, I saw that it was the gir with the furry neck. She had on the standard uniform, but in gold, and a bit shorter than the others wore. When I wiped the tears out of my eyes, I found myself admiring the shapeliness of her legs. Even though coated with hair, or rather fur, they were nice to look at.

But then my thoughts returned to what I had lost.

I sniffed and wiped my nose on my sleeve. "it's Ibira," I choked. "She's dead!"

"No!" Sigma moaned, sotto voce.

She bolted into the med lab, feathered tail snaping impatiently behind her.

I collected my composure, but still stared at the floor in a listless fashion.

A low moaning howl indicated that my winged friend had also discovered the awful truth, and he was dealing with the grief in his own unique way.

I moped like this for a few more minutes before rising to my feet, turning to march back to the call room.

Before I had moved a step, I heard sniffling, and a female body was wrapping its arms around me, weeping on my shoulder.

At first, I was hesitant, but then it got to me and I returned the embrace, crying with her.

"She was my friend too," she sobbed. "My best friend!"

She cried a bit, then sniffed and said, "I don't know what I'm going to do. I just don't! No one understood me like Ibira. She was always there for me when I needed her."

She fell silent and just wet the collar of my shirt for a few moments.

I couldn't think of a thing to say. Up until this point, I wasn't aware that the two were that close.

"I can't go on," she said. "She was my everything. She was like a sister. After the bombing, she was all that I had. And now that's all been wrenched away from me."

I was about to ask `what bombing,' but decided against it.

"I didn't mean to kill her," I blubbered with my eyes welling with tears. "It was an accident. How was I to know that-"

"Don't say it. I know already."

She swallowed, then, in barely a whisper, I heard her mutter, "It wasn't the worst way to go. I wouldn't mind going that way myself."

"What?" I blurted in surprise, not sure if I should be more specific about the source of my shock. I left it to her to clarify.

"Nothing," she said. And then she nuzzled her face into my neck.

"You smell nice," she purred.

Unsure I wanted this to go any further, I rigidly stated, "It's only soap."

"Nice," she repeated, rubbing her breasts against me.

I pushed her away. "I'm sorry. I can't be doing this now. It's...it's..."

"Too soon?" she prompted.

I nodded vigorously, fleeing down the hallway with my pulse pounding, my body responding in unwelcome ways.

Dennis frowned at me as I hurried into the room. "You're late again. What did I tell you about being late?"

"C'mon," I sobbed as the emotions came flooding back. "Give me a break. My girlfriend just died."

To my sheer and utter astonishment, that statement seemed to take the wind out of his sails.

"Do you need some time off?" he asked, almost looking genuinely concerned.

"I..." I stared at him in disbelief. "How would I do that?"

Alas, it wasn't as easy as I thought.

"You're actually allowed attendance exceptions for grieving time."

This was followed by a pregnant pause.

"...But only if they are directly related to you. Parents. Wife. Immediate family. This includes your partner in a same sex marriage."

I winced at his poor phrasing, but didn't say anything. I wiped my eyes.

He stared at me for a moment. "You said she's your girlfriend?"

"Was," I sighed. "Guess it doesn't count, does it?"

He didn't reply, but I could tell the answer was yes. We just stared at each other in silence.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"I don't get it. Why was I exempt from work when Brian died?"

"Because Brian was an important figure in the company. Everyone knew him. Ibira is new. She was working under Joe Guzman while I was working there, so I don't know her that well. You can still schedule a RO request for grieving if you like."

Shaking my head, I climbed inside my drum and got to work.

He didn't bother me for the rest of the day. I guess it wasn't a total loss.

Having no close companion to share the time with, I sat at a table by myself during meals, and watched as my Ikran nibbled on leftovers.

After my shift, I sat outside, staring into the sky, wondering which one of those stars was Barsoom, and where the planet was in relation to the one I currently inhabited.

Perhaps in an attempt to cheer me up, Harry led me up on a long hike through the jungle to observe the progress on the US Bank facility.

Even in the dark, I could see that the place was slowly returning to its former splendor. The lights were on, and I could imagine hundreds of people inside, running the computers.

Using Harry's special night vision goggles, I could see clusters of dirty yellow spaceships drifting down to the parking lot, opening up to allow groups of orange people to march out with power tools and strange devices.

I stared as these men, who looked like giant gummy versions of human beings, opened up a PODS container, carrying out sheets of glass, which they took up scaffolding and arc welded into place using tiny welders the size and shape of pencils.

"They load the supplies into storage units like you see down there. The bigger stuff they have to install on earth, which I'm not sure how they pull off without arousing suspicion. I think in a couple more days, they should have it finished enough to re-establish business. We already have a few agents working on the third floor."

"I wish Dennis would go back there," I muttered.

Harry laughed. "Don't like him, eh?"

I nodded. "He doesn't listen to a word I say unless it suits him. He's always pissing me off."

"I guess we'll find out soon enough!"

The moment I stepped through the door leading to the DOGOS break room, I bumped into Gary.

It turned out it wasn't an accident. He grabbed my arm. "Mr. Finch, could I have a word with you?"

Swallowing, I nodded, and I was led to a table near the window.

Harry turned away, marching down the hallway, so I was left alone with the man.

"We're all adults here," he said. "Look. I know that the fraternization policy is more like a guideline, and all the evidence points to you being two consenting adults, but...we lost a good employee, and I'm thinking this mistake could have been avoided if you had been a bit more...careful."

"I didn't know my stuff was toxic to her."

"I understand. But Sal has a supply of contraceptives in the med lab."

What? I was thinking. Is this guy suddenly my dad now? And why are there free contraceptives here? "I...didn't know that."

"Surely when you decided to make that sort of, ahem, _contact _with the Qozisa, the thought crossed your mind once or twice, did it not? I assume the idea of pregnancy or STD's _did_ cross your mind at least once while you and Ibira were...fraternizing, right?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. I figured if we couldn't physically have kids..." And then I frowned. "Anyways, it's too late now."

"I really don't want to have to give a seminar on safe sex to the entire office. I try to leave people's private lives alone as much as possible, but I'm not sure what I'm going to do now. All I can say is, don't make the same mistake again."

My face turned scarlet. "I don't intend to."

And then Gary disappeared into the building somewhere.

As I was climbing into bed that night, I heard a loud gravelly sounding voice hollering in the hallway, a voice I had never heard before in my life, even in passing through the hallways.

"Where is my daughter!" the stranger demanded.

"Ask Jason," I heard Victor replying.

And then a creature of nightmares was standing in front of me.

He was tall, with splotchy yellow-olive skin, withered with age, but lean and strong enough to kill me. His four arms were thickly muscled, his jaw solid and square, framed on each side by a pair of tusks that looked sharp and jagged enough to do serious damage. A white mantle of fur was slung about the shoulders of his harness like a cape, giving him an air of regality, and glistening, sharp looking knives were clenched in two of his scaly hands.

"Jason..." Victor said with a nervous smile, waving to the big guy. "Meet Mr. Qurtoth."

"Where is my daughter Ibira!" he screamed.

I swallowed, cowering before him in fright. "She's...not here."

"Tell him," Victor groaned. "Please tell him. I don't appreciate being choked to death."

I stepped backwards, trembling. "I...I got some bad news."

Ibira's dad stomped closer. "What happened to my daughter!"

"She, um, she died, sir. I'm sorry. I didn't mean for this to happen. I-"

The stranger slammed me against a wall, four hands squeezing my throat. "What did you do!" he growled through his teeth. "Answer me!"

"We had sex!" I gasped.

The hands clenched tighter. "You what!"

"She...was...curious!" I wheezed. "Can you please let me go?"

The weathered, noseless face stared at me like I was some sort of disgusting cockroach. "_You were in love_?"

"Yes!" I rasped. "Please! Let go! I can't talk!"

The stranger suddenly dropped me and drew away like I had the plague.

"They said it's like AIDS," I said as I rubbed sensation back into my neck. "My stuff got in her body and her whole immune system collapsed."

"Your...stuff." He looked genuinely puzzled.

I reddened. "You know, the..product of my reproductive organ. My seed."

The Qozisa looked horrified. "I should stone you to death and burn your remains!"

With a sigh, I spread my arms and bowed my head.

"You'd have to stone and bury the entire human race," Victor muttered. "Qozisa cells just aren't compatible with human ones. Of course, most of us don't go around sticking our dicks in places they don't belong, either."

"I didn't know," I whimpered. "She was really nice. And cute. I liked her and she liked me. A lot. We even went hunting together."

I again felt the hands squeezing mywind pipe. "You gave her Ululpo! You drugged her! It is the only way that something like this could have happened!"

"I don't even know what Ululpo is!" I gasped. I was only half lying. "Like I said, she was super nice to me! She thought I was cute!"

"Cute?" He gave me a blank stare, loosening his grip a little. He lowered his voice. "_She found you sexually attractive?_"

"Yeah?"

"I can vouch for that," said Victor. "I saw them holding hands and kissing and everything. Oh yeah. She definitely wanted him."

"You...and my daughter. You mutually consented to this?"

I nodded. "I've never...been with a woman before. I'm not that brave. She...kind of encouraged me."

He narrowed his eyes. "So you were ayurnud until then."

"If that means a virgin, then yes."

The stranger let go, crossing his knives in front of himself absently as he gawked at me.

"My daughter was vetrad. Exiled from the Cagedra. We shunned her for betraying the clan. It is no surprise that she also broke other Ensekema."

He sheathed his weapons in his harness. "In her last communication, I recall her describing someone she met as `cute'. She seemed pleased with the acquaintance. She made him seem like a Bilwobi."

"I..." I didn't want to mention the harness. "She definitely tried to make me one."

"You must accompany me in the rite of Mifsaro."

"Uh...sure," I stammered.

"Come with me to the hallway."

"What is it?"

He just shook his head, so I followed him down past the laundry room.

"I don't know if I should be sharing this," I said. "But Ibira spoke to me before she died. She said she saw...relatives...and...other things. And then she said they all wanted me to grow up to be a...zesmadac. I think that's what she called it."

He stopped suddenly. "Those were her words?"

I nodded. "What isthat supposed to mean?"

"They are respected elders in our tribe. They guide us in the matters of spirit."

"Oh. I...I try to do that every day, I mean, be a good man, but, well, I'm human."

Ibira's dad gestured for me to be seated in one of the chairs in front of the laundry room.

"My daughter said you will be a fine Bilwobi some day."

"She did?"

Mr. Qurtoth frowned, silently staring at me for a moment before drawing out a blade.

I backed away from him in apprehension. "What are you doing?"

"It is the rite of Labegzo. If you truly wish to honor Ibira's memory, you must accept it."

I backed away again. "What exactly did you intend to cut?"

"Stand still. You will find out."

I swallowed, nervously allowing Qurtoth to step closer.

The Qozisa raised the blade, cutting three diagonal slashes across my cheek.

After this, he unbuckled a pouch on his belt, taking out a small bottle, which he poured into his hand.

Rubbing it between his hands, he slapped the powder into my open wounds.

It felt like lye burning away my flesh. I screamed.

"Ow! What the hell!"

"_Cad daan boarozam zo qitpem kis si karang._ By this powder I make you a male. The slashes cut away the foolish mexonuk you were. The boarozam is the salve which pains while it heals to remind you that the fool in you must die in order for wisdom to reign.

If you prove worthy of this mark, you may someday receive the Norlukar, the marking and piercing of the genitals."

I swallowed. "I...I think I'll pass on that one."

Qurtoth put away the blade and powder. "Already you seem to have gained wisdom."

Suddenly everything seemed blurry and out of focus.

I felt...dizzy, and things didn't seem quite right.

Qurtoth's eyes had changed to a glowing fiery red that made me jerk back in surprise.

With a shudder, I made a hasty retreat, which only made him laugh.

The room seemed to tilt as I ran to a door, terrified by the sight of the immense green figure looming over me, growing larger and larger as it approached.

When I pressed a hand against the wall to make the room stop spinning, I noticed something amiss. My hand looked green, and there seemed to be a vaporous second hand that followed it according to what I thought for it to do.

I stumbled back into the room and found it full of Qozisa.

"Are you all right?" said a green female with Sal's voice.

"Y-yeah," I stammered, stumbling onto a bed.

"He's tripping on something," a midget sized Qozisa muttered.

I tried to act normal and avoid all movement, but then I noticed a tiny little Qozisa sitting on the bed where Ibira had died. A female with a familiar flower shaped orange-purple blotch across her breast.

I tried to pretend it wasn't there, but it smiled and waved to me.

"I love you," I said.

She hopped off the bed, skipping over to mine, gazing at me with an amused, innocent expression.

She was only a child now.

"You're silly," she grinned. "You do silly things."

"I think we were mutually silly," I muttered.

"Yes, yes we were. Very stupid. You should find a human girl. It's less trouble."

I shook my head. "More like no girl."

"He is talking to the goddess," I heard someone mutter.

Frowning, I looked around to see who said it.

When I couldn't identify the person, I turned around to find Ibira gone.


	73. Chapter 74: Leather of the Dead

I passed another day alone.

Well, sort of. Osmifa felt sorry for me and joined me at my table, and Ms. Chafen offered her condolences. Also, Mr. Qurtoth would often spring out of adjoining passageways in the complex at random times, asking me all sorts of questions about my personal life and details about what Ibira did together the last few weeks.

On the following day, I found a hologram of a generic looking ancient scroll appear in the air over my desk, accompanied by the words PERSONAL RO REQUEST.

I didn't put it in there, but I guessed someone else had.

Whoever it was that did it, I was grateful.

Dennis muttered that it wasn't his doing, but gave me his blessing to go on my merry, or rather, my somber way.

They held it in the Company Chapel.

Ibira was new to Christianity, so it made sense. Especially with the strange crowd I saw there.

Not a big crowd, but a group of roughly fifteen Qozisa had showed up, all dressed in harnesses, with furs thrown across their shoulders and weapon sheathes that glittered with sparkling gems.

The moment I neared the door, Ibira's father stopped me, frowning at my polo shirt and slacks.

"You will wear a Lusetma for this ceremony!"

I swallowed. "It's a funeral. I didn't think it would be proper."

He gestured to his harness. "What is improper about this?"

I paled. "Nothing, sir. Fine. I'll wear it. Can I at least wear clothing under it? In my culture it is improper to wear so little to-"

"You will look strange."

"I'm used to looking strange," I shrugged.

"Very well. If you are not mocking the Vunsigo, I will permit this exception."

I thanked him, then raced back to my quarters to fit myself with the harness.

Feeling awkward and embarrassed by the weird getup, I tried my best to sneak into the chapel without being seen.

It didn't work. All eyes turned to me.

It was like they were looking into my soul. I was certain that they knew everything that could be known about my pathetic, supposedly private life. I couldn't tell for certain, but I thought I detected scorn.

A handful of other coworkers shuffled into the room, making me a little less uncomfortable. Victor was there, Sam, Sal, Snaker, the fat guy that wore chain mail...

Still, it was a small gathering, so I didn't have any hope of sneaking out if I disagreed with the ceremony.

It was a very awkward service.

After the body, wrapped in a burial shroud reminding me of bogolanfini patterns, was laid on the altar, one of the Qozisa, an older female in a colorful robe, gave the invocation, something about Iss and her blessings and such. The others bowed their hands and closed their eyes, but I always made it a point not to bow to anyone else's god or goddess but my own.

I endured the glares of those with their eyes partway open and just looked away.

The priestess then poured wax and oil and a host of smelly things on Ibira's body.

Following this, they passed around a cup full of what could only be described as blood.

The priestess held this cup up to my lips, and when I refused to take it, she grabbed my face and forced it into my mouth.

It was disgusting, but it was already in my mouth, so I swallowed most of it without meaning to.

Following this were speeches.

I watched as Sigma stepped in front of the syncretist's altar, telling her story about how she'd worked with Ibira for several years, and how, after some terrorist group or another bombed her hometown with a powerful explosive using the properties of string theory, her family got wiped out, and Ibira was the only one in her life who provided any support.

To my chagrin, when her speech ended, I was asked to go next. With green hands shoving me forward.

I stumbled in front of the altar, staring at the weird crowd.

I looked down, tugging on the harness.

"The last time I wore this, it was under very different circumstances. I was hunting with her. We were...bonding. It was a very happy time."

I sighed. "Considering how she died, it's really dishonorable for me to be wearing this. Be glad that I'm wearing clothing underneath."

The humans in the gathering were the only ones laughing. They got scowled at.

I undid the fasteners, placing it with the body.

"This uh, harness, or whatever it is, seems to be a mark of honor in your culture. I don't deserve it. What I did...what _we_ did was wrong, and maybe this brought punishment down on us. I wish there was something I could do to fix everything and make it all better, but nothing is going to change the fact that Ibira is gone."

I placed my hand on her body. "Goodbye, Ibira. I love you."

With a sigh, I sat back down, looking dejected as someone else got up.

As I listened to their speech, I felt two arms wrap around my back.

Ibira's father gave me a kindly nod.

When I looked up at the body, I saw the little green female sitting atop it, giving me a little wave.

With a sigh, I waved back. A tear rolled down my cheek.

She blew me a kiss, then promptly vanished.

"Goodbye, Ibira," I breathed.


	74. Chapter 75: Gesundheit

When the funeral had ended, each of Ibira's family members came up to me, pounding one fist to their chest and bowing.

After seeing this happen a second time, I felt compelled to return the gesture, but Mr. Qurtoth told me not to, so I just nodded when the did that.

A pair of Qozisa carried the body away. I heard they were going to bury it on their planet or something.

Then my coworkers offered their condolences, having already offered it to the family first.

"I'm sorry for your loss," said Osmifa. "I and Ibira were good friends. It was a shame. She was a great warrior and call center agent. I will miss her."

I gave her a nod.

As I was leaving, I felt someone grabbing my arm.

I turned and found Sigma standing there. Her expression was sad, dejected. I sensed a quiet desperation in those purple eyes.

"I can't be alone anymore. I've got to have somebody with me. Can you please stay with me tonight?"

The idea made me extremely uncomfortable, but she wasn't the only one who was alone. I felt sorry for her, so I agreed to stay with her. At least for awhile.

I made her promise not to do anything funny. I told her I only wanted to hang out and talk, nothing more.

She nodded, offering to make me hot chocolate and popcorn and get out some two player video games to entertain us.

She kept her word. After work, we had a pleasant dinner together, and we ate popcorn and played some alien video game with wireless barbell shaped control sticks.

After awhile, we put down the controllers and opened a bag of chips. I told her about the good times I had with Ibira, and she told me about the great food she brought to potlucks (something I found incredibly hard to believe), the hunts they'd had in alien swamps and deserts, the amusing and embarrassing incidents between her and less than understanding coworkers.

We cried, then we laughed.

As she was drying her eyes, I brushed away a loose strand of hair from her face, and she leaned over and kissed me on the lips.

It was chaste enough, so I kissed back.

That was when she slipped me some tongue.

I pulled away quickly, causing her hurt and confusion, but the last thing I wanted to do was make the same mistake twice in a row.

"I can't," I said. "We can't...This isn't right. We should only be friends."

"Oh?" she pouted. "And why is that?"

I explained my reasons, the commandment against fornication, the JF-1 disease, the fact that we had barely been together any time at all.

She sighed and nodded.

And so we spent the rest of the night playing Animal Crossing, returning to our separate beds shortly afterwards.

The next morning, she was at my table, smiling as my Ikran flapped over to her shoulders and pecked at her plate. Soon the little guy was sitting in her lap, allowing Sigma to feed him scraps while she rubbed his head. Like any dumb animal, he seemed to have forgotten his pet parent completely.

When she caught my glum expression, Sigma's smile faded. "I know," she said. "It's hard. I saw you two eating here like this every day."

An awkward silence followed.

"Hey, I hear they're doing to final touches on the US Bank building. You're going to get to go home! Isn't that exciting?"

"Yeah," I said half heartedly.

She sighed and looked down. "What did Ibira tell you about the Lajazwa?"

When she looked up and saw my confused expression, she said, "The Qozisa rite of marriage. What did she say about it?"

"I...She said that it's...ridiculous that a person has to remain faithful to a spouse when they're dead."

"And you agree?"

I nodded. "Why?"

"No reason," she said.

Another uncomfortable silence.

"Do you think things would have been any better if I had waited until after marriage to have sex with her?"

She shrugged. "Your sperm would still have killed her."

"Would it?"

"Jason, it's not some magic thing that you can just ward away with amulets and rituals. We're talking about cells being infected by a foreign agent."

I stared at the table. "I guess you're right. I never should have slept with her."

Another conversation killer.

Sigma tried again. "Hey, I hear Dennis is leaving today. They've got the call center up and running so they don't need him over here anymore."

I gulped. "What about you? Weren't you with Ibira on the US Bank project?"

She nodded. "I really don't want to go back."

"Oh?" I said. "Why not?"

And then she just looked at me.

I pointed to my chest.

She nodded.

"You're leaving your job. Purely on my account."

"Let's just say I'm a romantic."

"I have to warn you. I'm not."

She waved her hand as if to dismiss the thought. "You don't know what you're talking about. I've heard what Ibira's been saying. _You just don't know!_"

I still thought she was completely wrong, but I know very little about the female mentality, especially when they're from another planet.

The only response I could come up with was, "Wow."

Sigma was right. When I arrived at the call room, Dennis wasn't there.

Instead, the vaguely gendered Neecel was greeting me at my drum, apologizing for the situation when I felt it deserved a standing ovation.

He didn't review my calls or anything. I just got to work.

As I exited my drum for lunch, Dennis stopped me and shook my hand.

"It's been good working with you," he said. "We didn't always see eye to eye, but I think at last I'm beginning to understand where you're coming from, and why you do the things that you do."

Not comprehending, I just meekly nodded and bid him farewell.

From that moment forward, I would find myself laying in bed late at night, wondering what the hell he meant by that statement.

What changed?

Why did he suddenly understand?

What did he understand?

Did this coincide with objective fact?

That heavy statement notwithstanding, I found myself in a much peppier mood. I worked my calls and departed for lunch with an added bounce to my stride.

As I dug into yet another slice of pepperoni flavored Pandoran horse meat, Sigma leaned over the table and said, "So...no more half naked late night walks through the compound?"

"Nope," I said. "I told you how Ibira helped me."

She smiled. "Ibira said you had an aversion to human females."

I shrugged. "Pretty much."

She unbuttoned a couple buttons on the front of her dress and pulled the fabric down, exposing a thick clump of cream colored fur. "Nonhuman enough for you?"

I sunk lower in my chair. "Maybe?"

She fluffed the hair out playfully. "What say we get together later tonight, and, um, _do some things?_"

She had said the last part while suggestively sliding a finger beneath the third button.

"It was bad enough that I committed fornication the first time," I said. "I won't do it again."

"Ibira told me you mentioned that to her."

"Yeah..." I wasn't sure I liked where this was heading.

"So you want to marry me."

"I... don't know about that yet."

"Okay, then. Hypothetically, you would have sex with me if we got married first."

"Yes," I said.

"Even if no babies happen."

I frowned. I didn't exactly have a bible passage saying anything about marriages with space aliens, so I didn't know how that was supposed to work.

"Even if the wife just ends up dying."

"What?" I said. "You have a death wish or something? Why would you want to sleep with me if you knew that my stuff would kill you?"

"Because I don't want to live anymore."

She said it with a straight face. She seemed to be dead serious.

A silence fell between us as I tried to formulate a response.

"But, I mean, there's plenty of reasons to live. I mean, this job is kind of cool. We get to go exploring on alien planets and talk to aliens and..."

She smirked a little, but then her sulky expression returned.

"If I were gorgeous like you, I wouldn't feel suicidal at all," I said. "I just don't get it. You have a tail and stuff, which I'm kind of envious of, even."

"That's sweet," she smiled. "Even if my tail is always getting closed in doors and pinched by furniture. But it's not just that. It's the fact that Ibira's gone. The fact that my family is all gone, and that all I can get are crummy little jobs like this one, and expenses keep piling up so I can never get anywhere."

"There are others who are worse off than you are," I said.

"There is always someone worse off than me."

She fell silent, and I just stared at her, trying to come up with some better words of encouragement.

"If this life were easy and trouble free," I said. "We wouldn't want to go to heaven."

"Exactly. Is it so wrong to want to get there faster?"

I sighed. "I'm not going to do it. I learned my lesson with Ibira. I don't want another death on my conscience."

Before she could utter another word, I pretended to check my watch. "I think I'd better go back to work."

She frowned. "Sure..."

When I returned to my drum, I kept thinking about how suicidal Sigma was, and how she might possibly want to do away with herself at any moment, maybe even while I was doing calls.

I had to push the thought aside and keep plugging away until dinner.

To my great relief, Sigma was alive and well. Worried for her well being, I sat down and ate with her, hoping my continued presence would keep her from doing herself in.

She seemed cheerful enough, petting Dino and feeding it scraps, but I could tell there was a glum person beneath that exterior.

We ate in silence for a long time.

At last, my worry got the best of me. "Sigma, are you going to kill yourself if I don't...kill you my way?"

"I might," she said.

I've heard that Asian business people have a way of mastering the art of postponement. They will tell you they will come to a decision about a business deal at the end of the day tomorrow, but the decision is that they need to deliberate further, and they won't have a decision about it until next week at that same time. And so on, possibly forever.

This is what I was thinking about when I said my next response.

"Fine," I said. "Let's talk later tonight, after my shift, and I'll think about it."

She seemed overjoyed.

With a sigh, I bid her farewell, and I returned to a few more grueling hours of calling customers and discussing bills.

When my shift ended, I felt a sinking in the pit of my stomach, coupled with a lust I knew I shouldn't be entertaining.

I went downstairs, changed clothes, and met Sigma at the door to her office.

She now had on a shiny red outfit, made of some leathery material that rode even higher on her thighs than the dress she had on previously.

"So..." she said. "Did you think about it?"

"I did," I said. "Um, how about tomorrow?"

She frowned. "Fine. How about we play a game instead?"

"Sure," I shrugged. "What game did you have in mind?"

She pointed her tail into the room. "Come in. I'll show you."

"Do you have any of that marshmallow popcorn stuff?" I asked.

I stared as her tail pulled the door shut and locked it.

I paled. "What are you doing?"

"You'll see."

I definitely didn't like where this was going.

She gestured for me to sit in the swivel chair in front of her desk.

"I don't get it. What is this?"

"I want to show you something special, but you've got to promise me you'll keep it a secret. Do you promise to do that?"

I furrowed my brow. "I...guess?"

"Pull your chair back a little and turn it towards me."

"Oh..kay?" Twisting my lip in puzzlement, I did what was asked.

I watched with confusion and unease as she strolled in front of me, unzipping the top portion of her dress.

"Wait," I blurted. "I thought we were going to play a game."

"We are," she said in low breathy tones. "It's called Plugging the Joystick into the X-Box."

"What?"

I should have left right then and there.

The next thing I saw was her unzipping the front of her dress, throwing her shoulders back so it tumbled from her shoulders, revealing every inch of a shapely body covered in purple spotted brown fur.

For a moment, my eyes traveled down the cream colored fur running from her throat to her chest and belly, following it down to the lump of green-purple flesh between her legs. They traced the curve of the greenish pink daffodil-like petals of flesh nestled in her chest fur, then drifted lower, admiring how the purple speckles curved through the pelt around the base of her hips in a way that almost looked like a design.

I quickly forced myself to look up.

"What is this!" I stammered. "What are you doing!"

"What does it look like I'm doing?" she giggled. "Do you like what you see?"

I swallowed. "I..." I shook my head. "I...don't think you should be doing this. Like I said, I don't want another death on my conscience."

I stood up, aiming to see myself out the door, but she pushed me back down.

"You're assuming that I want to live. I've lived a very sad, pathetic life. I've contemplated a lot of different methods to put an end to this dreary torture of living, but every method seemed too painful, or else it would have painful side effects if I missed it up. I wasn't even sure if I wanted to go through with it, but then..." She touched her chest. "I found that perfect method. something with an element of chance. Something that could end in death, or new life, joy or the end of my misery. Either way, a pleasurable way to put an end to things, one way or another."

"What if it doesn't kill you?"

She grinned. "Then life will become a lot more interesting."

My mouth felt parched. "Look, uh, Sigma. I'm a religious person. There's a commandment against fornication."

"You've already broken it once," she said.

"That doesn't make it right to keep on doing it."

"Jason," she said. "Fornication is a sin committed between two individuals of the same species." She framed her crotch with her hands, and a cluster of tentacles waved at me in the same fashion a hand would wave hello. "Are you sure this is what that commandment was talking about?"

A lump caught in my throat and stayed there.

"You're...not afraid of getting JF-1?"

She stepped in closer, pressing her nose against mine as she slowly unbuckled my belt. "Do I look like I'm worried?"

"You know," I said. "They have contraceptives in the med lab."

"You assume that I want to avoid the consequences. I would gladly welcome death...or children."

"I'm not sure I would."

She responded by giving me a long, passionate kiss. "Are you sure?"

"You know," I stammered. "It seems a little...too soon for this. Ibira just died and..."

"You said it yourself. It wasn't your fault. You didn't know."

I just frowned at her.

"Would Ibira want you to be unhappy?"

"I...I'm not sure this would make me...happy."

She pouted. "But it wouldn't make you miserable, no?"

I still wasn't sure. "I..."

"Let me ask you something. Do you believe in sex after death?"

"No..."

"Then," she said as she pulled my belt out of its fastening loop. "She shouldn't care what we do, right?"

"I...guess."

She undid my pants, pulling them off.

"Sigma," I protested. "I...I don't...I mean, I...ordinarily..."

"Yes?" She practically breathed the words into my crotch.

"This isn't a good idea," I said.

"And why isn't it? I can already see that your reproductive system thinks it's a fine idea."

"Why don't you..._take up gardening_ instead?"

"Maybe I don't want to plant tomatoes. Maybe I want a different kind of seed."

I squirmed, at a loss for words.

"If I am disturbing you, you can tell me and I will let you go."

"You're not disturbing me," I stammered. "In fact..." My voice suddenly became quiet and squeaky. "It's quite the opposite."

She giggled. "You're like a young Harfon before the rite of Rudwace!"

I sunk in his chair, embarrassed at her loudness. The sound waves from her voice bounced all over in the small room. I felt hot all over.

Running a finger down the growing front part of my underwear, she said, "Would you like to..._familiarize yourself_ with things before we start?"

The phrasing startled me. I jerked back in alarm.

"Ibira told me everything the moment she came back. _And I mean everything_."

"She did?" I paused. "She said she had a headache. She said she felt sick."

"Yes, but she was still excited, and in love. So...familiarizing. Yes? No?"

I nodded, trembling as she tugged on my elastic waistband and pulled my underwear off.

With a kiss, her hands slipped under my shirt, pulling it over my head, and I found myself being led to the desk, watching Sigma crawling up onto the glass surface protector.

As I climbed up to join her, she straddled the desk, gesturing invitingly at a pair of large green bumps and three tentacles swelling between her legs.

The tentacles slapped the glass and I could see the outline of another pink organ beneath.

With my heart beating faster, I seated myself close to her, pulling back the tentacles to get a good look.

She purred in response, leaning backward, pointing the tentacles straight up to give me a full view.

Her organ looked like an upside down letter Y with two sockets on the bottom arms, and a slit filled with stubby tentacles running down the middle, framed in swollen purple bumps.

The slit readily accepted my probing fingers, drawing them into a moist pocket of muscle.

She let out a shuddering gasp as my shaking hands traced the crack downwards, crossing a firm ridge at the fork of the Y, a noise that developed into a moan as my finger slipped into one of the arms.

When my finger returned to the intersection and slid down the other arm, she sat up, commencing her own anatomical survey.

Our explorations slowly became more..._involved._

"That's a strong little muscle!" she giggled as she flicked my penis with a finger. "If it wrestled with my okjupta, you think it would win?"

"I don't know," I said. "I don't have that much control over it. It mostly moves in one direction."

She pressed her body close to mine, wrapping her tentacles around it, gently rolling it from side to side. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," I gasped. "That's all you."

"Pity," she said as she kept bending it around.

I squirmed on the glass table top, focusing my mind on sexually neutral things in attempts to prevent the inevitable.

Then I started thinking about my little conversation with Gary.

"I didn't get any condoms," I said. "I should go to the med-"

Her tail flicked inside a candy dish, scattering jelly beans everywhere. When it came out, it held a little plastic package with a pronounced circular bump.

I reached for it, but she flicked her tail and it went flying across the room.

"You won't need it. I'm not afraid to die."

The whole time she had been doing this, her tentacles had been stretching and pulling and bending things every which way. I squeezed whatever muscles I could to stop it, but eventually I was spraying seed into her pelt.

"Oops," I stammered. "I guess that was too much. You win."

To my absolute disgust, she cupped up a glob of the stuff and slurped it into her mouth.

"You _really do_ want to die, don't you?"

She shrugged. "Are you done, or can you keep going after that?"

"I guess maybe with a little work..."

And so she worked things back up into a stiffening state.

Her tail got involved, and we weren't wrestling anymore, exploring each other's bodies with organs other than our hands.

"Let's try out the eighty seven sexual positions."

"Um," I gasped. "How about we start with one and try the other ones later."

"Perhaps that is best. Though I can only hope that you'll eventually agree to try the Gamzogaan mind blower."

She wrapped her legs around me. "This one is called the gayqatihul leg lock. Mind you, I've never actually tried any of these, but..." A pair of tentacles curled in a tight twist around my swelling erection. "I think you're supposed to do it like this."

Blinded by lust, I let my body take over as she performed the action, doing whatever I felt I had to do to feel good, which involved me burying my face in her furry cleavage.

Mistake.

Years ago, I went to my doctor and did one of those allergy tests. They laid me on my back and put drops of common allergens on my back in sort of a grid pattern to see what would make me break out.

One of the ones that made me break out the most was cat hair, followed by dust, dog hair, pollen and ragweed.

Although Sigma fit into none of these categories, my nose disagreed.

Before I could stop myself, I was sneezing on her breasts, then, as she stared at me in disbelief as I'm looking at her with a runny nose, a second sneeze erupts right in her face.

Totally disgusting, and I'm naked, so I have nothing I can even wipe my snot away with, except maybe her fur, which would only disgust her and simultaneously make me sneeze again.

I wiped my nose with my hand, smiling at her sheepishly. "Sorry."

"Don't be sorry. That's great. I think getting a cold from you would be just as good as getting JF-1."

"This isn't War of the Worlds," I said. "It was JF-1 that killed her. I'm not even sick."

"Still. It wouldn't hurt to stack the odds in my favor."

She smeared the mucus all over her face, then ran her tongue down the wrist I wiped my nose on.

My erection shriveled to nothing just watching her. "Gross!"

"You're the one who sneezed on my face!"

"I didn't mean to. I've got allergies!"

She scowled. "Are you saying you're allergic to me?"

I stared at her, thinking about this quite seriously. Considering her disgusting display, I wondered if it would be best to just agree with that assessment.

"Uh..."

But then again, we were still joined at the crotch, and her strange organs has been tugging and squeezing on mine, or at least teasing it with enticing spasms as we talked.

Overwhelmed, I backpedaled around the situation by blurting, "I can't help the fact that I-"

I stopped short of telling her that I'd love a cat even if it made me sneeze. Could I really love a woman that ate my boogers?

"I mean, I have owned dogs and cats, and..." There was that word again. "I cared for them very deeply, allergies and all..."

I could tell she was on the verge of either calling it quits due to the insult, or crying tears of joy. I decided I'd have to barrel ahead and say something whether I believed it or not.

"Even though they made me sneeze, and made it hard to breathe, and sometimes gave me a rash, I couldn't stop loving them."

There. Honestly, I had to be true to my convictions. If I were going to sleep with someone, they were going to be my partner as long as they lived. Of course, with my current track record, that might not be as long as I originally thought.

I couldn't tell if that were a bad thing, or a good thing.

Sigma sighed and let out a small laugh. "I'll get Sal to dose you with allergy medicine next time."

And so we continued where we had originally left off, with me trying my best to put distance between my face and her fur coat.

Sigma didn't have a pair of fangs, apparently. The equipment she had didn't come with that painful feature.

When we finally reached the point of no return, we slumped contentedly into each other's arms, well, kind of, considering my puffy watering eyes, but you get the idea.

We just laid there on the glass countertop, reveling in the last waves of pleasure rushing up between our legs, staring at the mess.

A computer monitor, keyboard and speaker lay fallen on the floor.

The shattered remains of a glass candy dish and papers lay scattered everywhere.

"That," she purred. "That was interesting."

"Yeah," I gasped. "Yes it was."

As I lay cradled in her arms with my nose dripping, feeling my skin begin to burn and itch everywhere our bodies touched, I hear a soft click, then what seemed to be the recording of a soft, vaguely human wailing sound.

"The baby monitor!" Sigma bolted upright in shock. "It hatched!" she practically screamed in excitement.

"What?"

At first, since my mind was still groggy from the dopamine, I thought she had been breeding Ikran or chickens or something, and was just using a baby monitor to check them.

The slowly building throb in my chest told a different story. That was no chicken squawk.

"What," I groaned, discovering that our stomachs were caked together, on account of what I had coated hers with. Secretly dreading the answer, I asked, "What are you monitoring. What hatched."

"The egg!" she cried. "Your egg! It actually hatched!"

My pulse quickened, my mouth becoming dry with fear. I was now under the impression that she could physically sense when her eggs were being fertilized. Or...something worse.

As the wail continued, I knew, deep inside, what was going on. I just didn't want to believe it. My heart thumped in irregular patterns, my stomach churning.

"Egg?" I squeaked. "What...egg?"

"Ibira's egg! It actually hatched!"

The stories were true? I thought, still refusing to understand. They actually lay eggs? My heart practically leapt into my throat.

"What! What are you saying!"

"Oh Jason!" she cried. "Ibira had a baby, but she didn't want to tell you because she knew it might upset you, especially if it didn't hatch, but now we know that it's alive and well and probably hungry!"

The color drained away from my body, my heart beating against my ribs like a conga drum.

Sigma squeezed me tight. "Congratulations, dad!"

I suddenly felt very faint.


	75. Chapter 76: Hatch

Breaking into a cold sweat, I pulled myself out of Sigma and threw my clothes back on.

"Where is it!" I cried. "Where is this, this..." I almost said abomination. "This _thing?_"

"Parenting jitters," Sigma giggled as she pulled her dress on, zipping up the front. "This is _so_ cute!"

Grabbing my hand, she unlocked the door, leading me down the hallway, into the hydroponics area.

"It's in there?"

"Yes, Jason. We've had it hidden in the rice field, under incubating lights."

She dragged me down a path to a section of swampy pools, stopping at the shattered remains of a white shell half buried in the dirt, framed with heat lamps. I guess somehow they figured out how to rig them up without electrocuting the egg.

"Where is it!" I cried. "Where's the baby?"

She gave my hand a reassuring squeeze. "Don't worry. We'll find it."

"It's in the med lab," said a nearby squid creature. "Congratulations, Jason. It's a boy."

I felt like throwing up. "Let's...go...to the med lab, then."

We raced down the hall, hurrying through the doorway of the medical facility, where a labcoated figure stood staring at a green lump inside one of those clear baby containers they use in maternity wards at hospitals.

Feeling that I was getting close to having a heart attack, or maybe an ulcer, I let Sigma drag me closer and closer, until I was staring down into the box.

The green I had seen from the doorway was a pile of plant leaves. Saline poured down a tube hidden under one large leaf, and oxygen from one of those wall mounted medical purifying things puffed down another. For a moment, I glanced at the clear canister on the wall, watching the accordion-like bellows moving up and down, then my attention was directed back to the green lump.

Sal pulled the leafy swaddling away, and I found myself staring in horror at a pale skinned four armed mutant. Round, bulbous head, widely spaced eyes, disturbingly flat nose, the beginning of tusks protruding from the skin on its face like baby teeth I didn't even want to think about the strange genitalia.

"Your son," she smiled. "We found it crawling around in a rice paddy."

Here and there, I could see strange green splotches peppering the otherwise pinkish skin, like some sort of mulatto.

"This might sound stupid, but why do you have it on IVs and oxygen if it can crawl?"

She looked sad. "It didn't crawl far. It's very weak."

But then the sad expression suddenly turned happy, like someone had flipped a switch on in her brain. "Anyways, this is your baby. Isn't that exciting?"

"How is that my baby? It doesn't even look like me."

"Actually, I think it does, though it has its mothers arms and still looks slightly green. In fact, I did a check of your DNA and the infant's just to make sure. Congratulations, dad."

"But that's impossible! She died! She only got sick! There's no way! She didn't even show signs of being pregnant!"

Sal shrugged. "She was wearing a lot of blankets and skins. That's probably why you didn't see it. I bet you didn't know that Qozisa lay their fertilized eggs in ponds and leave them there to grow."

"That..._thing_...has my DNA."

Sal nodded. "But it's more than a thing. It's life. It's your son. It's a symbol of Ibira's love! You have to keep it. _For her sake._"

The speech seemed entirely out of place for a doctor to be telling her patient, or patient's parents. I eyed her with suspicion. "Are you just saying that to get him off your hands?"

"Yes. No. Okay, yeah. It screams constantly. We had the baby monitor switched off yesterday because that's what your girlfriend wanted, but I couldn't take it anymore, so I switched it back on in hopes that you'd hear it and come do something about it.

"It doesn't like me breastfeeding it, it leaves slime everywhere, and frankly it's kind of creepy. No offense."

"You breastfed..._my baby?_" I was understandably horrified beyond words.

I could see her blushing. "I would have used formula, but we...don't have any, and the milk from the cafeteria...he won't drink it. It doesn't like bottles. At least not yet. He's not used to it." The blush deepened. "So yeah. I mean, nobody else wanted to do it, and you were busy, and Ibira was dead. The baby was practically starving to death..."

"I get it," I groaned. I paused a moment. "You said I was busy. Why is that important?"

"Well," she said. "Um, Qozisa males can lactate. I asked Ibira about..._some things, _and she said since you had uztoto shot into your system, maybe you can do it too. Admittedly, it was a stretch, but you never know...Have you experienced any swelling or sensitivity on or around your nipples?"

"Not...yet." I said, feeling my face flush with embarrassment.

Kind of awkwardly, I blurted, "Thank you."

"Not a problem. You're lucky that I've been pregnant before."

I stared at the creature with a mixture of intense pity and extreme loathing. Neither one of us made a sound as we stared at one another.

"That's the quietest I've ever seen it."

With a slight shudder, I picked it up and held it, deeply disturbed by how the slick Caucasian colored Qozisa skin encased the human body fat, and the sensation of tiny tusks and a human nose and chin poking me simultaneously.

A small hand reached for my right breast, pulling at the fabric that enclosed it.

I felt a tingling there, but I hoped and prayed that it was only placebo effect.


	76. Chapter 77: Epilog

The baby kept playing with my shirt, grabbing at my nipples. I really didn't anything would come out, but it was trying damn hard to get things happening.

I handed the baby over to Sal. "Can you...take care of him for awhile? I need...some time to think."

She nodded. "Sure. Take all the time you need."

The baby took this as a cue to start crying.

"Well, actually, try to hurry it up. But I know decisions about this kind of thing take time."

With a nod, I hurried to the door.

My new girlfriend turned to follow me, but she stopped in her tracks when someone on a radio said, "Sigma Webavsa to the technology room please. The computers are down again. Over."

Looking flustered, she grabbed a nearby phone, pushing the talk button. "On my way."

And she hurried out past me.

I staggered out into the hallway, blindly wandering around until I had reached the cafeteria.

It was empty except for Osmifa, who sat staring at a little tablet computer, poking buttons on some Tetris-like game.

"Congratulations," he said. "I heard."

I was still not used to speaking to Osmifa in..._its_ male form. "Uh, yeah. Thanks, I guess."

I frowned at the table.

"What's the matter?"

"Nothing," I said. "Well, a lot, actually. It's just..._this baby."_

I shook my head in frustration. "I can't have a baby!" I cried. "Babies need constant supervision!"

"It's okay. There's an exception for that in the handbook. The company gives you just enough time to find a...a caretaker."

"I hope I can find one," I grumbled.

This thing was mine. I was the father. It was sinking in, slowly but surely.

"What am I going to do? I can't just walk around Kansas City with this thing cradled in my arms! What will my parents think? For that matter, what will anyone think?"

"Perhaps you should move out. This isn't the kind of thing that you can keep secret for very long."

"I...but...what will I do? Where will I keep it so people don't find out and management decides to fire me?"

"They won't fire you," Osmifa smiled. "You can keep it here. Or, you can...disguise it, you know, keep it kind of under wraps a bit. I'm not saying stuff it in a closet, but maybe when you take it out in public, you could, I don't know, mask it a little?"

"Ibira wouldn't approve of all this hiding," I muttered.

"To thine own heart be true."

"I'm not sure that's the best philosophy I could be having. Look where it's taken me so far."

Osmifa shrugged. "I'm just trying to help. I think you ought to have a pretty good idea of my position on abortion, especially this late in the game."

I slumped in my chair. "Ibira prayed to her goddess, asking for this child. I'm not saying I believe in all that, but..."

He paused for a moment in thought. "My host and I agree. Her goddess has no power. But our god, the Almighty, has a brilliant sense of humor."

"Ha ha," I groaned.

"Have you named it yet?"

I gulped. That was the furthest thing from my mind. This creature, this abomination, needs a name?

"I...think I'll call him Sin."

"Sin," Osmifa frowned. "Seriously?"

"Uh, wasn't there a guy in the bible with that name? Like a son of Adam or Noah? Old Testament, right?"

"That's _Shem_, baby." The girlish tone was an ill fit for the mouth of a male host body. I cringed.

"Um..." I sighed. "How about Ahab? Or Saul?"

"You're going for the whole _corrupt evil tyrant_ thing, aren't you?"

"Maybe?"

"Saul's a good name. That's what the apostle Paul used to be called."

I frowned. "Um...I think I'm leaning towards Haman."

"Another wicked king." Osmifa shook his head. "Not something I particularly approve of, but it's your baby."

So Haman it was.

The next day, I explained my situation to the new boss.

At first, Necel was shocked, but it quickly got over it. "I understand completely, I will schedule a week of maternity leave for you at once."

"Wait," I protested. "Maternity leave? Not to be ungrateful, but wouldn't that be unfair to the ladies?"

"Jason," Necel sighed. "You're taking care of a newborn baby all by yourself. What do you want?"

And so with much embarrassment, I accepted the plan.

It was a week of washing and changing diapers and bringing him to Sal to be fed.

Awkward.

She really didn't seem to be interested in me at all. She just...enjoyed nursing, I guess, so I let her, cringing as I recalled portions of _The Hand that Rocks the Cradle._

I quickly pushed those thoughts away, accepting any help I could get.

Obviously, I couldn't take junior outside, because he didn't have the thing in his lungs, so, for days, I just carried him around the building and tried my best to be a good father.

A few days after my acceptance of this parental responsibility, I took him to hydroponics, setting him on my lap as I sat on a bench, watching the squid things planting stuff.

Noticing the boy's excited gurgling, a few of them joined me on the bench, playing with him for awhile.

I really, really didn't want to think about the tingling sensations running through my chest. Or the amount of food and drink I was ingesting at the cafeteria.

Placebo effect, I kept telling myself. Plus there are two creatures taking up residence in my body. Hence the increased caloric intake.

That night, the thing wouldn't stop screaming. I took it to Sal, I changed it, and washed it, but nothing seemed to help.

As I sat in the cafeteria, bouncing it up and down on my lap, I heard Sigma saying, "I see you're having trouble with the baby."

I nodded, staring at her shiny red dress.

For a moment, I was speechless, remembering how she had unzipped that outfit for me the day before.

"I can't figure out what he wants."

"I think I know."

I gratefully passed Haman to her, and she dug some sort of salve out of a pocket in her dress, applying it to my baby's little tusks. "I hear this helps somewhat. You might also put some bark in his crib to rub against."

She frowned. "I still can't believe you named him Haman"

"Be glad I didn't call him Nebuchadnezzar or Ahab."

She shook her head. "Like Osmifa said, it's your baby."

"You know," I stammered. "About that. I...um, need some...kind of domestic partner. I'm basically a single dad. And you, you know a lot more about this kind of stuff than I do. Can you please be Haman's mommy?"

She laughed. "For a minute there, I thought you were going to ask me to marry you."

"I am!" I cried. "I mean, that is, I didn't know this type of thing was possible until now, so-"

"I'm pregnant."

"What!" I paled. "But we just did it a couple days ago! How can you be sure of anything?"

"I just had a checkup with Sal. Did you know she has cameras that can see into the uterus and watch eggs develop the moment they're fertilized?"

My stomach lurched with the terror I felt. "So...you're not going to die."

"No," she giggled. "It's so wonderful! The zygotes went exactly where they're supposed to. Successful fertilization. No adverse affects. Haman is going to have a sibling."

"You're kidding me."

"No."

I fell to my knees. "Then I have to marry you. It's only right."

"Yes," she said. "If I'm going to be taking care of your two rugrats, you're going to have to take care of me."

I sighed. "When I first met Ibira, I told her I believed in waiting until after marriage to have sex. I thought it would be different with a space alien." I shook my head. "I'm just a no good sinner."

"We have a chapel on the premises, you know."

I swallowed. "That place scares me."

"No, I meant the one downstairs. The one Osmifa goes to."

I gave her a silent nod, resigned to my fate.

0000000000000

Author's note:

The working title of this story is Cleaning My Apartment, because now that it's all posted online, my junk collection is missing one large box of hastily scribbled notes.

I had this whole thing written in shorthand a few months after I saw the movie, and John Carter. Then I abandoned it to work on other projects for a few years until I discovered that thrives on stories that can be posted one chunk at a time. I could post bits and pieces of it, and see what people think before posting more.

I wrote this thing completely out of the desire to piss all over James Cameron's work.

You see, I had written a novel previously, and I noticed that his movie bore a suspicious resemblance to my own work. Too suspicious, in fact.

However, I didn't realize at the time that James Cameron also produced movies like Alien, The Terminator and The Abyss, which I had been borrowing from heavily without even realizing it. I didn't come to grips with this fact until I finished writing what you see here.

At any rate, I couldn't afford to sue at the time, even if it had been a good idea, and more violent approaches would send me to prison, so I took out my aggression by means of fiction.

I really don't know where I can take this story from here. I'd really need to find another fictional universe that I knew a lot about and hated intensely to come up with anything by which to continue this insane project.

I've been tossing around the idea of a DOGOS project in the realm of Harry Potter, but I really can't see that working out.

If there is any demand for this stuff after all the disgusting sex scenes and cussing and paradoxically biblical soap box moments, I might be persuaded to add another chapter to this, but I've run out of shorthand manuscript pieces, so I'd be stringing things out a bit thin.

Maybe someone will write a fanfic about this some day, but I doubt it.

If they do, I hope someone lets me know so I can read it. I enjoy a good laugh.

As stated previously, if you have complaints, or see any plot holes, loose ends, typos or glitches in any of the chapters, let me know. I tried to catch them as soon as I could, but my writerly radar is not 100 percent perfect.


	77. Chapter 78: Got Milk

Author's note: I'm certain that I have alienated 100 percent of my extremely limited audience at this point, so it is not due to requests that I composed this chapter. Instead, it just came from wondering about the various plot holes and dangling loose ends.

The strange man in the suit found in the first section of the story will appear in the sequel, with more explanation, AND a change of crossover categories. Hint: It's not Harry Potter.

* * *

><p>An unwanted baby and an unwanted marriage.<p>

I didn't want to marry Ms. Booger Queen, but I had to. I couldn't take care of two babies by myself.

I sank low on the bench, glumly staring off into space as my baby drowsily slobbered on my chest.

With an admiring smile, my new fiancee settled down next to me, curling her tail around my hips as she pressed her body close. "Where did you want to have it?"

Noting my blank expression, she added, "The wedding."

"I don't know," I sighed. "I don't even know if I want to tell anyone about this."

I felt her tense up. "Are you that ashamed of being with me?"

"No. It's just this whole non-disclosure thing. I wouldn't even know how to begin explaining this to my parents."

"We'll find a way," she smiled. "We can ask HR for advice."

I really, really didn't want to do that. Besides, I could guess the answer already. "They'll just tell us to get married here."

"You never know until you ask."

I shot her a skeptical look. "Like where. I've lived in Kansas City all my mife and have never heard a single thing about aliens until they accidentally hired me."

She chuckled, shaking her head. "`_Accidentally hired_.' You're silly."

"You know what I'm saying, though. There's no alien wedding chapels."

"Have you been inside every building in town?"

"Not really."

"Then how do you know what is or isn't there?"

I rolled my eyes and groaned. "All right, Sigma. What exactly do you want?"

"I want to be beautiful."

I didn't bother with statements like "You already are." Although technically true, I couldn't forget her disgusting behavior. I just let her keep talking.

"I want to be in a white flowing dress in a church and walk down the aisle to the bridal march."

"In a church," I repeated, staring at her in disbelief. "Why."

She gave me this look like I should have known already. She took a deep breath, blurting, "Because maybe I occasionally attend services with your friends in the caves?"

I just gawked at her.

She looked at me like I were insane. "Ibira told me you didn't care what aliens believed, but wow."

"Sorry," I stammered. "It's just...you don't act like it."

"Neither do you, Mr. JF-1."

"I guess we're both going to have to do a lot of confessing."

She folded her hands. "I'm ready when you are."

And so we confessed our mutual sins in prayer. While not exactly sorry for what transpired (except for the gross factor), we were both deeply sorry for the being unmarried part.

"So," I said again. "A church."

"Yes."

"And what church would we go to? I mean, other than that one downstairs that we currently don't have access to? Who's going to marry a human and an alien?"

She paused for a moment. "I'll ask around."

"I can't even afford a wedding," I said.

"People have managed before."

"My parents are going to see the tux. Maybe the ring. What am I going to tell them?"

"How about the truth?"

"They won't believe that! I'm not even that good of a liar."

"Ask HR. I'm sure they'll have a solution."

"But I don't want to ask them!"

"We have to, Jason. I'm not going to have some cheap secret Las Vegas elopement. I want the real deal."

"You're nuts," I muttered.

"What?"

"Nothing."

I stared absently at a creature tending a patch of pumpkin. "I don't have that much in the bank," I said. "In fact, they dinged me a thousand for ruining a cooler."

"Earth money, or Arcuva?"

"I...I don't know. I'd have to see my first check."

"`For richer or poorer,'" she said, squeezing my hand. "We'll manage. We'll share the yoke."

"Okay. Whatever. I was just warning you."

"It'll be okay. God has a plan."

"I wish He'd make it more idiot proof," I grumbled. "I'm as far off course as I could possibly be."

"Maybe you're exactly where you need to be," she suggested.

"Maybe," I sighed.

"You know, there's a fine line between bravery and being an idiot," she said, caressing my facial scars.

Her hand dropped to my pant leg. "You look better in a skirt."

She kneaded the denim encasing my thigh. "Or that Itorwo you were wearing."

"I left that with Ibira," I said, suddenly feeling depressed.

"I'll ask Sola to make you another one."

I furrowed my brow. "It's that easy?"

She nodded. "We talked during the funeral. She almost thinks of me like a daughter."

She squinted at my shirt. "Your nipples are leaking."

I looked down and shuddered. "This isn't happening."

"Oh, but it is," she purred, stroking my chest. "Feel anything?"

The sensation was indescribable, at least, to a man. I gasped, pushing her away. "Don't."

"So you didn't notice any sensitivity before this?"

I frowned. "I just thought my other polo was scratchy."

I stared down again. "Dammit. I don't want to have to wear a bra."

"Then don't," she smiled. "I never do."

"This is so wrong."

"Osmifa _did say _you were eating and drinking a lot more."

As if he could understand me, Haman placed a hand on my breast, letting out a piteous mewl.

"I can't be doing this," I moaned. "I'm a man. It's not supposed to work this way."

"It does on Barsoom."

"But we're not on Barsoom. I'm human. There's no way. I can't bring myself to do this. I just can't."

"I spoke to Sal today. She said she's tired of him pinching her and stabbing her with his tusks. She said the moment either one of us starts lactating, she's done."

"We can get formula."

"He's a newborn."

"You don't have to tell her. Let's just pretend this isn't happening."

"Don't you think it's kind of creepy to have some woman who's not even interested in you nursing your baby?"

"How-?"

She shot me a cold glare. "Do you know something I don't?"

I paled. "No?"

"I've seen how she acts around you. She only wants to see your baby live."

I wasn't sure I did, but I was certain that statement wouldn't go over too well at this point.

"All right," I growled under my breath. "Fine."

And so I lifted my shirt and gave it a try.

I wished it hadn't worked. I really did.

I as far beyond humiliated as I could get. "Dammit."

"Awww..." Sigma cooed. "There. That's better, isn't it?"

I was too ashamed to reply.

"There are men and women who envy you, you know?"

"I bet there are."

"_I'm_ envious," she said. "I can't make mine do anything. I don't even have a developed fetus yet."

"Trade you," I muttered.

She laughed.

I didn't provide that much milk. I was no Dolly Parton, nor was I even close to the breast size of one of those nearly flat chested models you see in movies about androids. I got dry on the right side pretty quickly, then changed to my left. I soon began to ache on both sides.

It whimpered and gnawed on me, but I was out. I quickly handed Haman over to his surrogate mother.

He cried, reaching out for me, but Sigma shushed him, bouncing him on her knee. "I'm sorry, honey, daddy needs to be replenished."

I cringed.

We got up and strolled through the rows of crops. Fans set in the walls and ceiling hummed as they sucked portions of life giving air into the air conditioner vents.

As we strolled past a section of barley, I suddenly heard a mechanical grinding sound, and circular lids locked into place over the fans.

I frowned in dismay. "What's going on?"

"The plant oxidation is being redirected to our O2 repository."

I heard something clicking, then cool air was blowing down on us.

"We must be back on earth," she said. "They wouldn't turn off the fans otherwise."

"Speaking of which, I still haven't gotten a straight answer about why this building can go to other planets."

I didn't expect much, but I was hopeful that someone had to know.

"I'll show you."

She guided me down a lane with her tail.

We strolled out of hydroponics, down the hallway, descending stairs leading to the Trolluskan maze. The passage leading to the church was gone, replaced by a brick wall. Apparently, it got left on Pandora.

"What are Trolluskans?" I said.

"They're...well...Did you see any strange looking creatures coming out of the caves?"

I frowned. "I think...during Osmifa's funeral..."

"Those are Trolluskans."

"Oh."

At the end of the corridor, Sigma stopped in front of a steel door with a complicated security lock, typing in numbers.

There was a beep as the light turned green.

She turned the knob, and the door swung inwards.


	78. Chapter 79: Spacing Guild

As the door came open, the pungent aroma of cinnamon nearly knocked me over.

Haman cried. I pressed him to my newly enhanced mammaries, shushing him the best I could.

"What do they got in here, a Duncan Hines factory?" I coughed.

"Not exactly." She pointed to a massive black object in the center of the room.

It resembled an aquarium like they had in zoos or SeaWorld, but with a lot more industrial metal framing. The tank glistened with an oily sheen, and from what I could see through its glass portions, it contained a sort of albino baby whale suspended in a cloud of orange gas.

Seated in front of its curving far end were a pair of figures, one a stocky midget, the other a bald headed pale man in a shiny leather dress. They sat around a small circular table, the man in the dress positioned behind a microphone-like disk, holding a hand of Playboy playing cards while the midget frowned at his own.

As I stared at the midget brooding over his own hand, the whale thing drifted close to the glass, and I could make out details.

Huge, humanoid eyes set a wide distance apart like some kind of freaky fish. Its giant fins were like grossly deformed hands, and its puffy cheeks were crisscrossed with sunken pockmarks.

"Go ahead, Rupert," Victor muttered. "Fold. You know you want to."

The lips of the creature were like a pair of swollen puffy hands joined at the thumbs and index fingers, which moved when it spoke. But it didn't speak so much as it puppeted the man in the dress, for there was a discernible interval of silence between the moment the thing's mouth moved and when I heard sound coming out of the man's mouth.

"The only thing I fold is space and time!"

The sound of the voice was like that of a lion trying to vomit, but I could understand every word. Its speech reverberated inside my head like I suddenly had a new speaker system up there I was unaware of.

Victor seemed to be used to this sort of thing, for he didn't seem the least bit nervous around the creature. "You act mighty brave for a guy who can't beat a queen and two aces!"

"...I let you win. I can read minds, you know."

Every time the creature spoke, a cloud of orange would blow out of its weird finger lips.

"Oh yeah?" Victor laughed. "Then what am I holding right now?"

"Uh...let me think. A pair of fives, and two, no, three pairs of twos."

Victor slapped his cards on the table. "Full house. Read `em and weep."

The creature let out an agonized roar. "I let you win!"

"Likely story."

"Is it my fault that you start mentally reviewing your your intergalactic porn collection every time I attempt to read your cards?"

"Maybe we should play something more your style. I think we've got Chutes and Ladders in the storeroom downstairs. No? How about Candyland?"

"Need I remind you of how I sunk all your battleships yesterday?"

Victor rolled his eyes.

"How much am I out?"

"Don't you know?"

"You're right. Don't tell me. I'm up fifty dollars, aren't I?"

"Actually, _I'm_ up fifty dollars. _And_ one hundred Arcuva."

"Someone is here."

The poker players stared at me.

"Go away," said Rupert.

"Finch. Tell me something. How come you're always sticking your nose in places where it doesn't belong?"

"Among other things," Rupert muttered.

"I don't know," I said.

Sigma curled her tail around me. "I made him swear not to tell anyone."

"Yeah, you know, because he's so good at following directions."

"Relax," said Rupert. "I got this. My spice enhanced mental faculties can easily detect insincere motives and secret agendas."

The fish face turned towards me. The eyes narrowed.

"You are looking for my genitals, but you will not find them. They are hidden inside my lower body like a Beluga whale."

He was right about that, but I wasn't consciously doing that.

The creature jerked back suddenly. "You find me sexy but you really don't want to talk about it."

"No no!" I cried. "You're way off!" And I rubbed my eyes in disgust.

"You think that my cheeks look like a waffle covered in skin and want to know what it tastes like with syrup."

"No!" I said. "That's disgusting!"

"Admit it. You want me for my body."

"No?"

The fish thing laughed at his little joke, then drifted upwards, pointing at Haman.

"Cute kid."

Before all this DOGOS stuff started, I wouldn't have taken a whale-like poker playing alien with a growly lion voice seriously, but I'd seen too much, so I spoke to him like an equal.

"Uh...Thanks."

"He's nursing!" Sigma exclaimed. "It's wonderful!"

I turned scarlet. "Don't tell him that!"

The poker players burst out laughing.

"She was good, wasn't she? That Qozisa girl."

I stared at the creature for a moment, wondering how much of my mind he could actually read, versus how much he just pulled out of conversations with other employees.

"Yeah. She was."

"No, no, I mean, she was _really_ good. In bed."

I blushed hotly. "That's none of your business."

"I can read minds, you know."

"Is that why Victor beat you at cards?"

Rupert paused. "Oh. That's disgusting. You actually did that on their boardroom table?"

"What do you know about it?" I scowled.

"Quite a bit, actually. It's kind of what happens when you read people's minds."

"Could you please stop, then?"

"It would help if you didn't think about it so much. You're projecting, and it's really making me nauseous. Why would you marry someone that eats your snot?"

"I didn't ask you to dig around in my mind."

"And I didn't ask you to come in here, now, did I?"

"You want me to come in there and kick your ass?"

"There's no way you can kick my ass. First of all, due to centuries of advanced evolution, I don't actually have an ass. Secondly, even if I did have one, I'm like a ninja. I see your moves before you make them, and I'm a master of the Five Finger Exploding Heart Technique."

The creature held up its fins to form Kung Fu knife hands.

"There's an entry hatch in the back somewhere. I dare you to find it and come in here. I'll teach you a few things about ass kicking. Of course, you're probably too stupid to figure out how to open the cover."

"He's been trying to open that thing for days."

"Shut up! I can fold space! I don't need to be limited by the constraints of puny molecular based physical objects! Watch! I'll disappear into another time and come back in less than a millisecond!"

The creature shut its eyes, then opened them again.

"There! Wasn't that amazing?"

"Bet you I can draw a gun faster than that," Victor muttered.

"Shut up."

The creature was quiet for a moment, then it said, "You wouldn't kick my ass anyway, Finch. You're a Christian."

"Yeah," I muttered. "I was hoping you wouldn't notice."

"Isn't that kind of counterproductive to everything your religion teaches? You know, `don't put a light under a bushel' and all that?"

It paused.

"Oh. Wait. That's right. You just had a baby out of wedlock. Never mind. Forget I said anything."

"It would've been a really short wedding anyway," Victor muttered.

"As a wise and ancient Guild Steersman, I can see into the paths of all times, and I know with great certainty that his marriage would have never been as short as some of yours."

"If I want your opinion, I'll beat it out of you."

"Bring it on, Dopey the Dwarf! Join me in the spice gas and we'll see who gets to have an opinion!"

Victor was silent for a moment. "You're just mad because I beat you at cards."

"I knew you would say that."

I wiped my nose. The cinnamon seemed to be affecting my nostrils.

"Would you like a Kleenex?" Rupert asked. "Oh. Wait. Never mind. Your girlfriend will take care of it eventually."

"You're not supposed to be in here," I heard a woman saying.

Whirling around, I saw the HR director standing in the doorway, scowling at me. The look could curdle milk.


	79. Chapter 80: Exit Orientation

As I stared at the stern looking woman in the doorway, the only response I could come with was "Oops?"

"Oops!" she scoffed. "How do you accidentally unlock a security combination?"

I had no answer for that.

"I let him in," Sigma said. "I trust him. If he tells anyone, I'll personally kill him."

Grace narrowed her eyes. "You know how that's not how this works."

"Are you going to fire us?" I asked. "Because if you are, I'd like to know the logistics of the whole thing, because there's a lot of stuff around here that's pretty screwy, and I really don't see how it would be possible."

"Nice rebuttal," Rupert whispered a little too loudly. "But it would have been more effective if you'd said it when this building wasn't actually on earth."

Embarrassed, I shook my head and stammered, "Look. I'm sorry. I,uh..." I couldn't honestly say I didn't know, or throw Sigma under the bus, because I could have just stayed out in the hall.

And so, after a dramatic pause, I just said sorry again.

"Nice save," Rupert muttered.

For a long time, the woman just silently stared at me, I guess in order to assess punitive measures.

"What is all this?" I asked, waving at the thing in the tank.

"What does it look like?"

"A whale in an aquarium full of mustard gas."

"Nice," Rupert muttered.

Looking like she were explaining the most uninteresting and banal subject in the universe, she said, "This is a Guild Steersman. Under the influence of this spice gas, he can fold space, which allows this building to cross thousands of light years and plant down on whatever soil we are required to occupy."

"They're using some Juddoon technology, too," Rupert interrupted. "Me and Larry are good friends. Larry's a Juddoon. You probably haven't met him yet. Busy guy. Kind of looks like a rhinoceros. Really powerful with his building transplanting machines. Since he'd already set up a good relay point to Pandora in our last mission, he didn't see the need to show up."

"The bum still owes me fifteen bucks," Victor muttered.

"Is that a satisfactory enough answer?"

"Sure," I said. "Why not."

I narrowed my eyes at the midget. "Why all that guessing and postulating earlier?"

Victor sighed. "I only got debriefed after Brian's death. This privilege is supposed to be restricted to senior HR officials and head of operations."

"Way to sleep your way to the top," Rupet muttered.

Sigma's face suddenly developed purple spots, I guessed due to embarrassment.

Grace continued glaring at me. "This shouldn't have happened."

"It's cool," Rupert said. "He's the One Who Lives. He and his baby."

"He...lives," Grace repeated with an air of disbelief. "And may I ask what he lives through?"

"You may," said Rupert.

"And...?"

"I said you can ask. It doesn't mean I can tell you."

Shaking her head, she turned to me and said, "Exit orientation begins in one hour. Your attendance is not optional."

Shooting the creature in the tank one last scornful glare, she whirled around, marching off down the hallway.

I wanted to know more than she did, so I decided to play twenty questions. "Do I...survive an attack of some kind? An army?"

"Answer hazy," said the creature. "Please try again."

"Kid," said Victor. "Give up. You're not strong enough to shake Mr. Magic Eight Ball's tank."

"C'mon," Sigma said, grabbing my free arm. "Let's go."

We still had some time, and as it was nearing supper, I ate dinner with my fiancee, my boy and my Ikran.

"We should have let Dino into the wild," Sigma muttered. "He has no place here."

I nodded. "It's too late to do anything about it now. Besides, he's technically a pet, and a military tool."

She nodded, but didn't look so sure.

She sighed. "Is your rash gone yet?"

I nodded.

Not too long after our little activity on her desk, the entire front side of my body became inflamed and irritated, from neck to crotch, like I'd just had sex with a pile of poison ivy. I borrowed a bottle of calamine lotion from the med lab and emptied it out trying to stop the itching. Still, it itched for three days in a row before I successfully showered off the allergen.

"You think...you'd want to try it again?"

I swallowed. "Not without a Cortisone shot."

We finished up, then marched down the hall for exit orientation.

The meeting was held in the call center Gary had given his speech in just a few weeks before. We were a little bit early, so I bounced the baby in my arms, watching with disinterest as senior agents in polos and khakis climbed out of drums, getting coffee and chatting amongst themselves.

"How come they get breaks?" I muttered.

"Special occasion," said Sigma. "The project has concluded. They're in Meeting Time right now."

"Does that mean they're unemployed?"

"No, there's always someone else to sub for. At the very least we'll get overflow from the other companies."

As the room started filling out, I saw Gary setting up the holographic projector again, and the CEO, the red fish thing in the dress, gave us a ten minute congratulation speech.

Following this, Necel, Victor, and a man with a grotesquely birdlike face brought out a stack of award certificates and prizes.

"Trasheena Eclasia," Victor read. "For one hundred percent customer satisfaction rate and no compliance defects. Come up here, Trashy."

A bosomy fat woman in a low cut red blouse and slacks waddled forward, tasting the air with a forked tongue as she accepted the award.

There were a lot of awards, so it took awhile to get through them. Haman started crying after the fifth one, and wouldn't be quiet, causing the whole call center to state at me.

Victor cleared his throat.

"Sorry," I muttered.

"He probably needs changing," Sigma whispered. "I'll take care of it."

"What if you win something?"

"Take it on my behalf."

"Um, what's your last name?" I whispered.

"Seriously?" she said. "You slept with me and you don't even know my full name?"

I blushed. "And who asked to ride my joystick without dispensing that information? Besides, who else in this building is named Sigma?"

As if on cue, Necel read, "Sigma Kisamga," and a black woman with glowing freckles came forward.

"There you go."

I shook my head.

"Calmizo," Sigma muttered. "Sigma Calmizo. Got it?"

I nodded.

"It's okay," she muttered with a wink. "It'll be Finch soon enough anyway." And she carried Haman out.

I got a few more stares, some chuckling mutters, then the awards ceremony continued. A whole lot of names were called, but none of them were Sigma's.

Unsurprisingly, I didn't win any customer service awards, or anything business related, for that matter.

Sigma returned without the baby, whispering that they had a babysitter downstairs. I was about to ask why she didn't make use of their services earlier, as early as when I found Dino, for that matter, but at that moment, Necel started talking about military honors.

Victor pulled out a sheet of lined notebook paper. "The success of this operation was not solely due to customer service. There was also a military operation involved, which, through great feats of heroism, allowed operations at US Bank to resume, thus ensuring the future success of both our companies for years to come.

"Therefore, it is with great pride that I now distribute the awards for military excellence."

"Stand up!" Sam joked. "I can't see you!"

Victor was already standing. People chuckled.

"You think that's funny, do you? Keep it up, and we'll have a little Laugh In outside in the parking lot, funny boy."

Shaking his head, he read from the sheet. "Sharon Jones. Snake, get up here."

My crazy fellow worker complied.

"This isn't an army, so I don't have much in the way of military awards. If it were up to me, I'd give you a Purple Heart. But, for bravery, courage, and most importantly, common sense, I hereby award you with this twenty five dollar gift certificate to The Macaroni Grill."

Snaker laughed. "You think if I got shot in my other leg, I'd get Gojo's Japanese steakhouse?"

Victor rolled his eyes. "Gimme a break. This stuff had to come out of my own pocket. I'll buy you a beer or something."

They both laughed.

Snaker nodded appreciatively, pocketing the card.

Sam got a gift certificate for a comic book store, Big Steve got Applebees, and our fallen heroes got their names engraved on a plaque. Everyone on our team got one. Brian even got a tunnel named after him.

Well, except me.

I was starting to feel depressed when Victor said, "Finch, come up here."

"He means come down!" Sam called.

The crowd laughed.

Victor waved his fist at him threateningly. "One more outburst like that, and I'll show you!"

He pointed at me, then jerked his thumb towards the front of the room.

Shocked, I stumbled forward, staring as he pulled out a gift wrapped box.

When I glanced back, I saw Sigma looking at me with shiny eyed awe.

"Finch, this is an award for General Military Assistance. For your, um, acquisition of new military surveillance techniques, and, um, sticking your neck out without getting killed."

As I fumbled with the shiny paper, he said, "Leave it wrapped. This doubles as your wedding gift."

I reddened. "How did you-?"

But I could pretty much guess it was either Rupert or Sigma.

"Never mind."

It was counterproductive to give attendance awards, so no one got any.

Sigma apparently didn't earn any awards, for the list ended and I saw Gary step forward and clap his hands, calling for everyone's attention for "serious matters."

"All right," he was saying. "For the time being, we are re-stationing on earth. Business as usual, people. Most of us are human, or human-ish, so I want to start with all the ishes.

"There are no space aliens on earth. I repeat, none. Act like it. If you have anything growing on your body that doesn't passably fit with any known human birth defect..." He cocked his head towards Victor.

"I prefer `birth difference'," Victor growled.

"Right. Ahem. `Birth difference.' General rule of thumb: Cover it, or don't go out."

The snake tongue lady shot up a hand.

"Trashy, I'll get you that tongue piece after the lecture."

She put her hand down.

"Housing. Sandleford Estates is an umbrella extension of the DOGOS company. They're real discreet, so don't be afraid to come over. Rent is uh..." His eyes rolled back in his head a moment. "What's the rent over there, Necel?"

The androgynous manager chuckled. "Six hundred per month. At least, that's what you're going to tell anyone who asks. Always keep the number above what reasonable people would pay for rent. It's actually closer to two hundred, but you're paying the remainder in Arcuva from your paycheck."

There were murmurs and chuckles.

"The cover story is that it's roughly five hundred plus in rent, one hundred more or less for the water, sewer, trash, etcetera, along with your insurance."

He glanced around the room. "Who has a car?"

I and a bunch of others raised their hands.

"Good. I don't want anyone using the Ross Memorial Tunnels unless they have to. If you can hide your, ahem, _birth differences_ in some way or another, you walk, drive, or ride a bus there. The tunnel is for material transport, emergencies, and the seriously different. Got me?"

There were murmurs of assent.

"We could live there," Sigma whispered to me.

"Dialog," Gary continued. "The non-disclosure agreement you all signed is still in effect. Again, I repeat, aliens do not exist. Got it? If anyone asks, you work for Sprint and Citibank, doing collections. You earn roughly six hundred every two weeks, and it gets eaten up by rent. Technically these are half truths.

"If you mess up, we have quote-unquote `psychologists' for you to see. Don't be afraid to use them. You will use this time to strategize with management as you go to your imaginary appointments. We'll forge whatever documents for the proof that you need. We even can prescribe placebos for realism.

"Which takes us back to point number two. Shadybrook. Shadybrook is a mental asylum, a last ditch effort to cover things up. `Doctors' will provide a solid air tight alibi about you being crazy. That's all they do all day.

"For all of you earthlings that took time off of your regular jobs, or family, whatever, your cover story is that you were at a team building and management conference, and it got overlong because you were training.

"You were being introduced to a new banking project they just started. All new software and special policies in addition to the leadership course. You learned about this, then took calls and interviewed for the position. There's a limited amount you can disclose due to security reasons. You could possibly get fired.

"The bus broke down and we stayed at a hotel, but its phone system was down.

"There was a typo, and you volunteered for a special leadership course that kept you longer. This meeting was located in Pocahontas Michigan."

I heard Victor mutter something to the contrary.

"Your managers have the paperwork, the exact address, website, phone number. It's in Michigan. If you know anyone from the area, see your manager for a substitute story."

He paused. "That's all I have."

Victor cleared his throat. "If you have any questions, see one of your managers. If you think something is going to violate the non-disclosure agreement, see one of your managers. We'd all be happy to meet with each and every one of you individually to discuss it. Even in the middle of the night. We all want to keep our jobs."

"In fact," Gary said. "We have exit interviews set up for all of you. Grace and I, along with a few others on the team will be conducting them to ensure a smooth transition. When this is all over, if you screw up, you will only have yourself to blame."

When the meeting concluded, I tugged on my fiancee's arm. "Since when do we have babysitters here?"

She smiled. "Since a year after the building was remodeled for the DOGOS company. C'mon. I'll show you."

Halfway to the door, I was stopped by Necel. He glanced down at a list on a stack of papers on his clipboard. "Jason Finch. Four P.M. Meet me in my office."

As I was walking away, he said, "Wait. Sigma Calmizo. Want to meet with Jitana tomorrow at two thirty, or would you rather join him?"

She put her hand around my waist. "Join."

Looking mildly disgusted, Necel rolled his eyes and said, "I'll tell Jitana." And he jotted the information down on the paper.

Sigma led me out of the room and down the hallway, stopping at an office door immediately adjacent to the room with the squirrels.

I paled. "Uh...what's this?"

"The nursery." She pointed to a door tag saying that exact thing.

She opened the door and I was staring in a strange looking daycare center, tended by a mob of those crazy beaked squirrel creatures I'd encountered earlier. Clad in tight leather jumpsuits that left everything hanging out on top, they patrolled rows of cribs ranging from tiny bird sized incubators to cribs big enough for me to sleep in.

They giggled as I followed Sigma down a row, watching me with mischievous eyes, but they were too busy diapering and washing and feeding infants to do anything horrible. Well, other than breastfeeding quite a few of them.

The infants were as strange as you might imagine. Only half of them were human. Some looked like the nurses, some like cockroaches, rolly polies or overgrown maggots. I saw a purple baby being nursed, then an albino kid with horns being fed from a high chair.

"Were these the squirrels that were after your nuts?"

I swallowed and nodded, cringing at the giggles that followed.

"I let them know you're taken. As long as you stay out of their sleeping quarters, you'll be fine."

I didn't believe that for a minute.

We stopped in front of a red crib containing my sleeping son.

"Aww!" Sigma grinned.

My pride was tainted with nausea, but I still felt some affection for the little guy.

We took him out of the crib, strolling back up the row.

I shuddered when I saw an adult man in a diaper curled up in one of the larger cribs.

"Yuck," I said.

"That's Robert," Sigma giggled. "He's the guy who threw the baseball in hydroponics."

The man sat up, sucking on a pacifier as he stared at us.

"Uh, hi," I said with disgust. "The...uh...watermelons look great."

All of a sudden, the man's facial expression turned completely blank.

Without a word, he climbed out of the crib, marching out the door.

"Uh-oh," I frowned. "Maybe I shouldn't have said that."

Sigma just laughed.

Since it was already close to four, we marched into the call center, standing outside Necel's cubicle as he met with a nymph in stretch pants. Apparently the woman had trouble hiding her cockroach antennas and serrated chitinous growths on her arms.

After a long wait, Necel dismissed the woman with a stack of papers, catching me right in the act of breastfeeding.

Yes, I know the babysitters probably fed him, but he didn't act like it.

At any rate, awkward.

Looking a bit nauseated, he led us into the cubicle, gesturing for us to be seated in a pair of swivel chairs as he activated a small holographic computer for a few moments.

The manager hummed softly, flipping rocks to access various documents.

At long last, he spoke. "You two are engaged, correct?"

Sigma nodded.

"Yes,"I said.

Before I could say more, Sigma blurted, "But we were trying to figure out how to have a great wedding and still follow the rules."

Necel rolled his eyes. "What were you planning for this `great wedding'"?

"I want to have the ceremony at an actual church."

"You have your choice of Company Chapel or Friends Church across from Sandleford."

"What's Friend's Church like?"

"Friends is abandoned to the public. The windows have special light shielding to preserve the unused appearance. You would park at Sandleford and use the Ross tunnel formerly Tunnel A3 to access it."

"Why can't we pick another place?" Sigma cried.

"Dear, I know you can hide under a collar and a dress of appropriate length, but you're not going to get away with doing that to your baby present."

"I guess we could leave him at the babysitter," I shrugged.

Sigma sighed. "I can't do that. This is too important."

I glanced at Sigma. "We could go anywhere if we didn't have the baby along."

"He's family," she persisted.

I shook my head. "He's a newborn."

"Exactly. He needs his dadda. I mean, what if he needs to nurse?"

I sighed. "So we're stuck with Friends Church."

"Unless you can devise a clever costume," Necel shrugged.

Since none of us to could think of a good disguise for six limbs and tusks, other than shroud, it seemed set in stone."

"You could, perhaps, hold the wedding on Spengo or Tatooine."

"Tatooine's cool," I grinned.

But Sigma was undeterred. "I want to meet his family!"

It was the last thing I really wanted.

"It can be done. But the entire family would have to sign both non-disclosure and recording restriction agreements..."

"I'm not going to put my mom's job at stake."

"We _could_ erase their memories of the entire day with a special drug, but it would, of course, defeat the purpose."

Sigma gave me a sad puppy dog look. "Please?"

"I don't even know if they'd want to sign. Or even take me seriously when I ask."

"Let me know when you've made a decision about that, and I'll get you the necessary forms."

I frowned. "What am I going to do about my parents? This is so awkward."

"As long as she's disguised appropriately, you can truthfully say you met at work and let them meet her. You will have to hide the baby, of course. Also, you need to do something about that scar. The wound looks too contrived to fall under the category of accident."

I offered a suggestion. "Snaker was playing a stupid game with me around a fire?"

"Very good. Now here's something for you to review while you're busy deciding matrimonial matters."

He handed us both pay stubs and documents explaining the imaginary conference.

"Review these carefully. Make sure your stories are identical. Avoid embellishing anything or making up your own tales. Keep tight lipped about it, and keep it boring so they stop asking. The booklet at the bottom has a list of prompts and their appropriate responses."

I flipped to the back, reading one aloud. "`Question: Why am I so late? Answer: we took buses to the conference. Plus..."

"I got a better suggestion," Necel interrupted. "For that one, you can simply state that you were staying at your girlfriend's house and you forgot to bring your cel phone."

"I don't own a cel phone."

"Even better."

"But then they'll wonder why I didn't call."

He frowned and thought a minute. "You were staying in Michigan and the power was out for an entire week."

"I could have used a pay phone or someone's cel phone," I muttered.

"Your girlfriend's phone was dead, and Pocahontas doesn't have pay phones, plus the power was out in the only gas station in town."

"Yes, but for a week?"

"Well there was a big storm, and the roads were closed off due to reconstruction. The bus had already left, and Sigma's, I mean, _Sarah's_ car was stuck in the driveway with an expensive transmission problem. Plus when the power came back on, you were afraid they'd find out you were sharing beds with a woman you met from work."

I reddened. "I think dad would be proud. You know, proves I'm not gay. He's weird like that."

"Good," said Necel. "Just tell him it got really hot and heavy and you didn't want to leave."

I rolled my eyes. "Sure. He'll believe that."

"You, uh, might need to bring her along to substantiate. Unless you want to say it was a man."

"Yuck."

"Like I said, keep tight lipped about tit and you won't have to go into all of this."

"I don't like this," I said.

"I'm sorry. You'll have to deal with it."

"Do I have to live at Whatchamacallit Estate?"

"I suggest moving out immediately. It's going to save you a lot of trouble. Also, Sigma, try to avoid their house whenever possible. It's bound to cause problems."

I and Sigma stared at each other for a moment, our facial expressions telling volumes without words. Filled with unease and dread, I quickly looked away.

Necel cleared his throat. "Do you think this is suitable enough for your needs?"

I shook my head. "I don't make it a habit of lying."

"But you know how to tell half truths, yes?"

"Maybe. It's not the lying itself, but the being convincing part that bothers me."

"Let's role play," he said.

And so we spent about a half hour ironing out all the details and possible objections my friends and family might have against all the lies. I hated to be so dishonest, but I wanted to keep my job, so I agreed to it.

"I highly recommend you take a few days to contemplate your mutual life changing decision and formulate your plans. In the meantime, I suggest you get your other affairs in order, housing, living situation, working arrangements, etcetera. Come to me if you have any further questions or problems. You are dismissed."


	80. Chapter 81: Sandleford Estates

We did as instructed and drove to the home specially designed for people like us.

Sandleford Estates was a disappointment. There was absolutely nothing stately about it. Instead, it looked like a series of run down apartment complexes, only differentiated from the other ghettoplexes in the city by its rural locale and the tall walls hemming it in on all sides.

The grass was dead, the parking lot and concrete retaining walls in front of the individual buildings were cracked and in bad need of repair, and the buildings themselves were an ugly beige that nobody seemed to have retouched for years.

"Quaint," I muttered as Sigma nervously squeezed my hand.

"I hear there are houses we can buy outside of here. Very discreet. Once we get together enough money. Of course, I hear we're going to move around so much it's hardly worth it."

"You think they can at least discount the rent for the time we're not actually staying here?"

"I don't know. Let's check that leasing office at the end of the block."

The leasing office turned out to be only a degree nicer than the rest of the complex, and most of it was artificially so. Fake plants, imitations of fine decorative vases, and so forth.

There was only one person on duty, a super dark skinned African guy, and we had to wait more than ten minutes while he helped a couple scaly Mexican looking people with their application.

Whatever optimism I had when I arrived at the place was gone when I finally got the guided tour.

Each apartment was basically the same. No gas range or overhead light on the stove, a wall mounted air conditioning unit instead of central air, and for heating we just had sort of a long overglorified space heater. Not much room at all, despite being a two bedroom.

And no, we didn't get any breaks for being gone a long time.

"I guess we have no choice," I muttered.

So we filled out an application for a two bedroom.

The next order of business was going back and explaining my absence. For a few hours, we sat in the woods outside the complex, thinking up our lies.

I wanted to stop by Taco Bell or any other place that didn't sell canned alien meat, but we had the baby and Sigma didn't want to disguise herself and go with him, so we ate in the cafeteria again.

At last I decided I was merely postponing the inevitable out of cowardice, since I'd already come up with the most compelling lie I could think of, and couldn't think of a better one, and so I bid Sigma farewell for the day.

As I got in my car and took off down the road, I started feeling self conscious about my breasts. They still looked masculine at this point, but they were rather full, like I'd been working on my pecs. I hoped and prayed that A: Nobody noticed that they didn't seem that muscular, and B: They didn't swell any bigger.

When I came home, I found dad watering the ground around the foundation of the house.

"The prodigal son returns!"

This was a standard greeting I got whenever I was gone for any extended period of time, like trips or what have you.

I stared at him watering the house, confused about what he was doing.

"There's a toad out there," he said.

I stared at him. "Really? All the way up here?" There was a lake a few miles away, but it seemed a bit far for an amphibian to travel. "All the way from the lake?"

"The lake is here because there's a hole in the foundation and I'm watering the ground to fill it up."

I frowned. I'd never heard of pouring water on a house to plug up holes in the foundation before. "No, I mean, what made it hop all the way to our yard?"

"If you want to pay ten thousand dollars to fix it, you're welcome to do it."

I sighed and shook my head in resignation. Well, I thought to myself. That's one person I don't need to talk to.

When I stepped inside, mom got up from the couch and cried, "Where were you!"

And so I told her the lies I'd been coached on, careful not to say too much to avoid getting holes punched in my story.

It was a hard sell, especially due to the fact that I'm not a practiced liar, and my facial expressions probably betray my words.

She stared at me for a moment, taking it all in. "What happened to your face?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. I was in the woods and got hit by a tree branch. I must have had an allergic reaction."

"It looks like tribal markings."

I grimaced. "All right. It was a stupid game. You know how I bumped into that one guy's car at work? He came with me to the conference, and, well, to make things up between us, we got...drunk, and we, uh, played Indian. He heated up a knife and pressed it on my face, you know, for realism."

I could see that she didn't buy it. "You never drink."

Turning red, I said, "I decided it was time to start. You see, we played poker, and I lost, and he said I'd either have to pay him or let him put scars on my face. He said that beer would ease the pain."

She just stared at me like I had grown another head.

I sighed. This was going to be a long night.


	81. Chapter 82: Recursion Kythe

Kythe (v): To speak without words, to emphatically sense another's thoughts and memories. In other words, telepathy.

Recursion (n): See recursion.

* * *

><p>Everyone I have ever known or cared about is dead. Decimated by a fungal agent unintentionally transported to earth from a planet I never knew existed. Pandora. A fictional world they say James Cameron invented, or Zhou Shomou, depending on who you talk to.<p>

The infection behaves exactly like the jungle spore that makes zombie ants on all those documentaries.

Once it's absorbed in the skin, it makes its way to your brain, and you appear to have a stroke.

You wander around aimlessly, guzzling water and eating plant matter until you lay down somewhere and a big mushroom explodes from your skull, your body, or both.

Sigma, my late wife, once owned a video game with this theme, but our zombies never eat human flesh. It's not cold enough, you see.

The primary symptom is dehydration. That's why the lawn outside the building is basically dirt. They ate it all like cattle.

Only I and my four armed baby lived. It turns out the green people of Barsoom have a natural immunity to the spore.

My baby is fifty percent Barsoomian.

I'm about fifteen percent due to my alien girlfriend sexually injecting me with her DNA.

You don't want to know how she died. Let's just say it wasn't the spore.

My name is Jason Finch.

The one who lived.

After everyone died, I basically just camped in my office for days.

Due to the unusual nature of the business, the building contains sleeping quarters and a cafeteria stocked with food. Once I'd gained a tolerance for the rotten skull raped corpses, I took what remained of the food supply and ate upstairs in the employee break room I'd cleaned of bodies.

The canned goods were the only thing they'd left behind, due to their diseased brains not knowing how to operate can openers.

I had no fresh vegetables because they'd descended upon the underground farm we called hydroponics like a swarm of locusts.

Our building can travel to other planets, like the planet we got the spore from, but I didn't want it to go anywhere without those life giving plants.

The company was named DOGOS. I don't know what it stands for. It's alien.

If you read my previous account, you'd know all about the business and what kind of a crazy place it was. Suffice to say, they used to do customer service and collections for off planet companies.

It turns out the building travels through space by means of folding it.

We have a guild steersman.

Yeah. Dune is real, too. But our steersman is a dork and he's currently a giant mushroom planter.

Their offices are located a floor below the NCO/Sprint office they use as a working front operation.

I like the Sprint break room better than the DOGOS cafeteria because it had windows. Once I'd moved the bodies, I found it a perfect place to breastfeed the baby and eat.

Yes, I'm a guy. You can thank my girlfriend's DNA for that one.

Fortunately for me, it only looks like I've been working on my pecs. A lot.

It's staggering how many things Edgar Rice left out of his John Carter novels.

When the epidemic ran its course through the building, I intended to leave my son Haman in the care of the Huxwapa, five foot tall humanoid squirrels with bird beaks and lizard tails who dressed and acted like hookers.

Not the best choice of daycare providers, but the company provided it to all employees free of charge, and they were adequate as babysitters. So that's where Haman went most days when I was on the clock.

What I saw in that room made me swear off eating for an entire day.

It was like a mushroom farm, with babies and Huxwapa as planters.

On the ground lay dozens of brown furry bodies, their skimpy leather outfits sprinkled with white powder. Some laid in an undignified sprawl on the concrete, phallic mushrooms bursting from their skull cavity. Others laid with their backs arched, an explosion of white ripping open their necks and chests like those ants in the documentary.

The babies could hardly be recognized as such. The humanoid ones didn't have much to them so they were mostly just a screaming face or a pudgy arm immersed in a white spiderwebby blob. The blankets looked like they'd been dusted with powdered sugar, and there was a thick yeasty smell in the air.

The other cribs held insectoid material, tails, claws, or eye stalks, all buried in white foam.

When my foot plunged into the white innards of a corpse in a lace teddy, I had to choke down the urge to vomit.

I quickly ran out the door.

In my haste to escape down the cinder block and concrete outer hallway, I tripped and fell over the body of H.R. Director Grace Augustine, spilling Haman onto the hard floor.

The impact knocked the white shaft off the lump protruding from the back of her blonde head, dusting the floor with alien China white.

Haman screamed and wouldn't stop screaming until I took him upstairs and cradled him for a few minutes.

When the man in the suit appeared, I thought for sure I was hallucinating.

People tend to see things when deprived of sensory date for too long. Astronauts in sensory deprivation tanks are reported to see squirrels carrying around backpacks and little green men.

Okay, so I saw that stuff without hallucinating, but the point is, they go crazy.

So I doubted the man was real at first.

"Hello?" I said. It was a safe question, one that doesn't necessarily imply that you are talking to a figment of your imagination.

"Mr. Finch," the man said. "The one who lives."

"At last! Another human being!" I cried.

"I'm afraid you're incorrect."

"Oh?" I grinned. "So what planet are you from?" Mind you, I deal with aliens all day at work.

"It's more complicated than that, but I do not wish to waste time with explanations."

Haman didn't cry, but he should have.

I frowned as realization slowly dawned about who this man was.

When I had first joined the DOGOS company, I had seen him. Blonde man in a suit, waving around a clock for reasons I couldn't fathom. Standing in the rain, and watching him through the glass windows of the locked Sprint office, I thought I was going crazy.

But then I met him again during one of my sleepwalking episodes. He stopped me from going outside and breathing toxic Pandoran air.

I guess he could still be a figment, kind of like Fight Club, but I wasn't sure.

"You!" I cried. "Who are you!"

"My name is Steel. I have been sent here to correct this time anomaly."

I heard the door come open again, and a red haired woman in a blue outfit marched into the room.

For a moment, the two just silently stared at each other, at times nodding, as if having a silent conversation.

"You're a little late," I said. "The spore has wiped out everyone on earth."

"That is of little concern to me," Steel said in a dispassionate tone. "What matters right now is sealing the gap in the space time continuum."

I was about to ask him why he saved my life if he didn't care about anyone, but then the woman spoke up.

"With any luck, when we fix time, we will also prevent the epidemic. The steersman Rupert, in his mindless haste to escape his confines, is responsible for the obliteration of thousands of civilizations. We returned him to this facility, but it was too late. The damage had been done already."

"A vengeful entity is at work," said Steel. "It has used its influence to infect the steersman with the spore. We need to repair this gap in time immediately."

"Oh?" I scoffed. "and how do you intend to do that?"

Steel frowned. "We need your cooperation."

At this point, I was game for anything. It wasn't like I had anything else to do with my time. "Cooperation doing what?"

"We need you to kythe the past."

"Kythe?"

The woman nodded. "It means sending your consciousness to another time and using your empathic sense to solve the enigma."

I laughed. "Sure? Why not? Let's play your little game."

"Lay down on the couch over there," the woman said.

Grinning, I did what they asked and stretched out on the beat up sofa at the end of the break area, moving Haman into a comfortable place on my bosom.

"Relax and close your eyes," said the woman.

I did. I felt a cold but delicate hand pressing against my forehead.

"Now repeat after me as I count backwards from two hundred. Two hundred..."

"Two hundred," I repeated.

"One hundred ninety nine..."

My head felt all swimmy, our voices sounding like they were reverberating though a cave.

I stiffened in shock, crying out. "I'm dying, aren't I? The spore finally got to me, didn't it!"

Haman wailed.

"Sapphire, what's happening?" said the man.

"He's just panicking, that's all."

"Calm yourself," she said, smoothing down my hair. "You're immune. Your brain is functioning normally. You must repeat my words so your consciousness can kythe the past. Two hundred."

"Two hundred," I repeated.

And so we counted down the numbers, her voice seeming to echo through my head as I made my way to eighty.

When I reached ten, I fell asleep.

When I awoke, everything felt wrong.

I was tucked under a comforter, and my body felt strangely small.

I raised a hand and stared at it. Plump, tiny palm, the chubby little fingers painted with pink nail polish.

Shocked and somewhat horrified, I threw back the covers and discovered I wore My Little Pony underwear, and I wasn't male.

That explains the soft lacy silk pillows, I thought.

My sleeping companion was Funshine Bear, who looked a bit off from what I remembered him being like.

My bed lay in a large room with metal walls painted a rosy pink, decorated by girly pastel colored cartoon characters, puppy dogs and kittens magnetically attached to its surface.

To the right, I saw a a pink dresser with a Tinkerbell lamp. To the right, a toy box containing Barbies and doll accessories.

"Grace!" I heard a woman calling. "Breakfast!"

I didn't respond. That wasn't my name.

Suddenly, Funshine Bear's head turned around like that girl on the Exorcist, moving its mouth like it were a Teddy Ruxpin doll. "Good morning, Grace," it said in a mechanical voice. "Would you like me to retrieve your clothing?"

I screamed.


	82. Chapter 83: Buddy Bear

It seemed my new acquaintance with the suit had put me into a child's body residing in a bunker in some unidentified location by means of some kind of psychic power. The lack of windows told me nothing about where I was, but I assumed I was supposed to be my deceased boss.

The fact that I was seeing a demon possessed teddy bear made me wonder how she survived long enough to be anybody's boss.

"Gracie!" I heard the voice calling. "What's going on in there?"

I didn't reply. I was too busy gawking at the creepy bear.

"Have I done something to alarm you?" it said.

"You're fucking walking and talking!" I cried. The words sounded weird coming out of little girl vocal cords. "You damn near made me shit my pants! What the hell do you think? Of course I'm fucking alarmed, you demonic puppeted agent of Satan!"

The bear froze for a moment. "Your usage of profanity will be reported to your mother."

Still not accepting my role in this situation, I replied, "Mom's used to it. I'm a grown..."

I frowned at my little pink panties. "Never mind."

What was going to happen? Would someone spank me? Make me eat soap? I supposed it wouldn't be the worst thing to happen to me.

"What the hell are you, bear? Some kind of fucked up Teddy Ruxpin?"

"Second instance of profanity recorded."

The metal door along the wall slid open and a fat curly haired woman with an astronaut's uniform stomped in. Her expression was stern. No-nonsense.

"Grace Augustine! What in the Lord's name is going on in here!"

"You tell me!" I blurted. "What the hell is that bear doing walking around and talking to me!"

She rolled her eyes and made tsk noises. "I knew it was another one of your silly games."

"What!" I said. "Are you stupid! Do you not see that devil possessed toy walking around on its own volition?"

The woman slapped me hard across the face.

"You _do not_ call your mother stupid! Do you hear me!"

"Mrs. Augustine," the bear said as it waddled up to her knee. "I have recorded two instances of intense profanity and mild swearing."

"Robert," she hissed under her breath. "That no good man."

Then, more audibly, she said, "Would you like to have your soap before or after breakfast, Miss Sailor?"

"After," I groaned. "So, I'm guessing by your complete and utter lack of concern, that creepy thing on the floor is actually some sort of bastardized version of Teddy Ruxpin?"

"Keep cursing, young lady, and I'll make you eat the whole bar of soap."

"Look in the dictionary," I protested. "It's a description of impure manufacture, like a bastard sword."

The woman just shook her head. "I'm going to have a long talk with your father."

She sighed. "Go shower and get dressed. We'll continue this discussion after breakfast."

She walked out of the room.

I scowled at the walking, talking teddy bear. "You're a robot, aren't you?"

The bear gave me a bow. "Buddy 874, personal companion unit, at your service."

"No," I said. "Your name is Teddy Ruxpin."

The bear nodded. "Very well. Name change accepted in databank."

I grinned. "If I called you a dirty word, would that also be accepted in your databank?"

"Correct, but all usage of this name would be reported to registry owner `Mother.'"

"What if registry owner Mother didn't care?"

The bear shrugged. "Then there would be no programming conflicts."

I rolled my eyes.

I glanced through the door and saw a hallway lined with metal doors. No sign of the woman.

Seeing that the coast was clear, I grabbed the bear by the legs and slammed him against the wall.

"Ouch!" it said unconvincingly. "Why are you mistreating me, Grace?"

"You know what they say, cotton brain! Snitches get stitches!"

I slammed the bear against the floor.

"Did you know: This unit is equipped with full surround audio/video recording equipment?"

"You won't after I finish with you!"

I slapped the bear facedown on the floor, feeling up its backside for a zipper.

"It's psychologically helpful for you to physically express emotional upset in such ways," the bear's muffled voice commented from the floor. "May I also recommend the practice of martial arts, which included similar but purposeful expressions against punching bags or other humans in safety controlled environments?"

I found a zipper, but it was secured with a little lock. Not a padlock, but some kind of key built into the machine itself. It reminded me of a miniature version of the safety locks you see on old computers.

"May I recommend you soak your head, you smug son of a..."

The bear's ears turned like satellite dishes, eagerly awaiting my next obscenity.

"Biscuit," I finished lamely. I was glad I hadn't said "Soak your head in shit."

That's when I got an idea.

The first order of business, of course, was clothing.

After I'd explored the room a bit (it was a cube, there wasn't much to explore), the bear directed me to the door that `my mom' hadn't used, pushing a door next to the flooring.

The door slid open and I found myself staring into a tiny closet containing a strangely limited wardrobe.

On one side, I had a handful of little Shirley Temple dresses of different colors. The other side held only gray jumpsuits.

While the dresses, with their stockings and shiny buckle shoes looked cute, I opted for practicality. Hanging around this hell hole and eating soap all day wasn't my idea of fun.

I grabbed a random jumpsuit, then, at the bear's prompting, I pulled a plastic drawer out of a rack, staring at a wadded assortment of socks and underwear.

Knowing the types of things generally hidden in such places, I gave it a thorough search. I didn't expect much, as `mom' had me on twenty four hour surveillance, but I could hope.

Every single pair of panties in the drawer were patterned with Disney princesses, ponies, Smurfs and rainbow bears, and this was the only underwear drawer.

On the bottom, I found a yo-yo, an Allen wrench, a strange looking plastic card with computer chip backing, a handful of little plastic cubes that looked like thumb drives, a My Little Pony in an astronaut costume, apparently manufactured that way, a plastic bird person with a white shirt and jeans, combs, a makeup compact, little girl lipstick and nail polish in a dozen colors, and a pack of gum.

I stuffed the useful looking items into the jumpsuit, grabbed a flat chested undershirt and some panties, then asked the bear to direct me to the shower.

The bathroom, unsurprisingly, was a box, just like the narrow hallway that led to it. Not a window anywhere.

The place had a toilet that looked like something out of an interstate highway rest stop, and so did the sink. Someone had thoughtfully provided stepstools for me to reach the faucet.

The shower itself was like a closet, lined with a waterproof plastic shell and a streamlined shower nozzle. Instead of a knob, it had a touch panel on the wall where you could select a temperature setting.

"Shall I wait out here until your bathing cycle is complete?"

"No," I said with an evil grin. "I...I'm scared."

"There is nothing to be afraid of, Grace," the robot said. "I am here with you. If electrocution is your concern, the electrical system runs off a battery, ensuring only mild discomfort in the event of a wiring fault."

"No, stuffing for brains! I mean there's a boogeyman in there!"

The bear made motions like it were searching for the boogeyman. "Sensors not detecting any lifeforms."

"The boogeyman can fool your sensors," I persisted. "That's why he's the boogeyman."

"Accessing imagination program," the robot said. It paused for a moment, then said, "Would you like me to use my _anti-boogeyman destroying laser_?"

Being somewhat familiar with computer programs, I recognized what the bear was doing. It was basically a MadLib-like fill in the blank type of arrangement. I could have said "a pissed off unicorn," or "the Golgotha shit demon", and it would have said the same exact thing. The extra emphasis on the new word made it that much more artificial.

I rolled my eyes. "No. Not unless it's real."

"Would you like me to pretend that the _anti-boogeyman destroying laser_ is real?"

"No. I want you to blow a real hole in the real shower, and maybe help me to escape this dump."

The bear looked really confused, and I thought for a moment that I had pulled that logic trick Spock uses to destroy robots on Star Trek.

No such luck.

"I'm sorry, but the _anti-boogeyman destroying laser_ is only effective against the _boogeyman_. It cannot affect the shower itself."

This is when I decided that my robotic teddy bear pal was actually thirty four percent stuffing, thirty three percent Big Brother and thirty three percent bullshit.

"Is my laser unsatisfactory?"

"That's the understatement of the year," I said. "You're darned right it's unsatisfactory."

"Were you wishing me to accompany you in the shower?"

"Yes!" I cried in exasperation.

"Do you believe that this _boogeyman_ intends to do you physical harm?"

I nodded. "Please. I need you to come with me."

The bear remained stubbornly where it was. "I will happily observe you from the exterior, and automatically report any dangerous situations to the appropriate authorities. I will also arm my _anti-boogeyman destroying laser_, just in case."

Sure you will, you pervert, I thought. Probably will just stand there stroking your `_anti-boogeyman destroying laser'_ while you watch me bathe. "Gee thanks, bear."

With a sigh, I peeled off my underthings and stepped into the shower.

As I turned on the water, the bear said, "I highly recommend closing the door to maintain environmental cleanliness, and to avoid accidental falls."

When I ignored `Buddy' and bumped the temperature up to ninety, it said, "I noticed you did not bring a towel. Would you like for me to retrieve-"

I didn't let Buddy finish. In one quick movement, I grabbed him by the head, flinging him under the spray.

I closed the door and held the bear under the shower head, playing with the temperature and water pressure, spraying him with blasts of foamy shampoo, which came out of the same pipe at the press of a button.

"Did you know," Buddy gurgled as I smashed his face into an inch of water. "The electronics and circuitry of all Buddy units are rated one hundred percent waterproof by Consumer Electronics Testing Association?"

I pulled the bear out of the puddle. "What if I put you in a swimming pool?"

It rubbed its stomach. "My tummy doubles as a floatation device., providing a valuable lifesaving service."

I stared sullenly at the wall, resigning myself to a perfunctory scrub.

"Are you still frightened of the _boogeyman_?" the bear asked.

I muttered no.

"I am programmed to imitate the bathing patterns of domestic pets. Would you like me to demonstrate?"


	83. Chapter 84: Mission

Why did this `Sapphire and Steel' psychically put me into the body of Grace Augustine? Why not some other employee? And why a child? What was I supposed to be doing here?

For that matter, what year was it? Obviously, judging by the technology, I was in the future, but if Grace was a child in the far future, why did she appear to be thirty years my elder?

Was I only in some technologically advanced science facility on 1960's earth?

No, that wouldn't make any more sense than the other idea.

I stared between my legs.

Any normal person would be curious about the features of their body if they suddenly woke up as a person of a different sex.

As I stood in the spray, examining myself, my furry robotic pal achieved a whole new level of creepiness by lecturing me about how `natural' it was for me to touch myself.

Disgusted, I threw him out on the bathroom floor, shutting the shower door as he shook himself off like a dog.

I just turned off the water and cowered behind the plastic simulated frosted glass, watching `Buddy' as he dried himself off with a cordless hair drier powerful enough to fire tennis balls.

"Can you get me a towel?" I said.

The bear bowed. "Gladly."

He left the room, coming back a few minutes later with a pair of large body towels, handing me one through the crack in the shower door.

I was apparently in the future, for the towel was not only a towel, it was also made with sponge fibers, leaving me bone dry. I made Buddy hand me my clothes, and I got dressed, a _Little Mermaid_ top with _Beauty and the Beast_'s Belle for the lower half. I may have changed genders, but my lack of fashion sense hadn't changed any.

When I put on the jumpsuit, I found everything in the pockets like I'd left them, so I zipped up and wandered down the hall in search of breakfast.

After stumbling into a plain looking bedroom and a closet, the bear led me through the door at the far end, and I found myself in a large drum shaped room with a domed ceiling. Metal cabinets along each wall, judging from the open ones, contained dishes, no porcelain visible. A small light up Christmas tree stood at one end of the room, indicating it was December...whenever.

The room had doors in all four cardinal directions, and had a plain beige color to it. On one wall I saw a framed picture of Christ in Gethsemane, and I stared at it, it turned into DaVinci's _Last Supper_. Photo frame, I thought, but a huge one.

A screen on another wall showed what looked to be camera footage of a jungle, and another showed a choir singing, and I could hear strains of _Rock of Ages_ above the sizzling of food.

The air was thick with the smells of something like ham and diesel exhaust, pancakes, eggs and WD-40.

`Mom' was standing over a sort of futuristic electric skillet situated on top of an aluminum sideboard thing, cooking eggs alongside met with gray and purple spots that definitely did not look like ham, and gave off that ham-ish diesel odor. It kind of reminded me of something they cooked in the DOGOS canteen. Pancakes crackled in a strange little plastic cabinet on little shelves.

In the center of this room stood a table, and herein did I encounter two other children, an adorable little black girl in a jumpsuit with an afro exploding from her head, and a little blue Na'vi with dreadlocks in a bright yellow robe.

I smiled at them, relieved to have the company of someone my supposed age, regardless of their strange appearance.

I pulled up a chair next to the girl, who was already eating a piece of that gray stuff.

"Hi," I said. 'What's your name?"

The girl started giggling. "Seriously?"

"Yes. Seriously."

She stopped giggling when she saw my sincere expression, but she was smirking, as if waiting for the punch line. "Are we playing _Amnesia_ today?"

"Uh..." I stammered. "Maybe?"

She burst out laughing. "Then I am agent Jake Sully, and I am on a secret mission."

I rolled my eyes. "And where are we?"

"Mars," she said. "You should know, because you're the queen!"

"I want to play," said the boy. "What's it about?"

I stared at the silver crucifix hanging around his neck. "Not sure. She won't tell me her name."

"We've been together three years and you want to know her name?"

I shrugged.

He laughed. "So you're playing like you have amnesia?"

Who's playing, I thought. I just shook my head.

"Well, then I'm Tsu Tey, a great warrior on Mars."

I smirked. "What, are you two fans of the movie _Avatar_ or something?"

They gave me blank looks.

"What's _Avatar_?" the girl said.

"Are you playing _Amnesia_ too?"

"No..."

I couldn't tell if they were shitting me or not. "Those names," I said. They're out of a movie."

"That's silly," said the girl. "I just made it up off the top of my head. Sully means dirty, you know. Kinda like _Dirty Harry_. I just thought it would be a cool name."

"Same with me," said the boy. "Tsu Tey in my language means `amazing chef.'"

I was unsure if they were just play acting or really were the source of James Cameron's ideas.

`Mom' brought a skillet over to the girl. "More eggs, Kamara?"

The girl now looked like a Poker player who'd just lost to someone with a better hand. "Aw, Mrs. Augustine! You ruined it! we were playing a game!"

"She still doesn't know who I am!" the boy grinned.

"What game are we playing?" the woman said in the condescending tones of a kindergarten teacher.

"_Amnesia_," Kamara said proudly.

`Mom' frowned. "She's been playing that all morning." She scraped eggs on the girl's plate.

"That's plenty, ma'am," Kamara said, holding up a hand to stop her.

"Gracie's got another little game to play before you can continue playing yours. That one is going to be called `eating a bar of soap.'"

"That's interesting," said the boy. "Which flavor? I like the green ones with the strong scent. The flavor is very sharp."

"It's a punishment," said `mother.' "She spoke bad words."

"I don't understand this concept of `cussing,'" he said. The facial expression showed he wasn't joking. "Why are certain sounds in your language so upsetting? And if they're so bad, why do they even exist?"

`Mom' served me my food. Gray `bacon', eggs, pancakes. I dug in, then got chided for not praying first.

Once "Grace had said grace", I ate the gray meat. Working at DOGOS had long desensitized me to alien foods, and I was almost positive that I had eaten it before.

This so-called `bacon' tasted like turkey livers, mincemeat pie and sauerkraut. I grimaced. Maybe I _hadn't_ had this before.

"It's good, isn't it?" the boy said.

"This is coming from a Na'vi who eats soap."

"Why do you call me a Na'vi?" he said. "That is not my tribe."

"Then what..." I gave up. I was just supposed to know everything. I didn't know where we were, or why, or who anyone was, but everyone presumed that I did. I supposed the only thing I could do was watch and-

"More Vontulnu, Henry?" Mom said as she offered him gray bacon.

"Alas," he frowned. "I have also lost the game." And then he gave mom a nod. "Please."

"Is this..._house _part of DOGOS?" I ventured.

Kamara looked puzzled. "Is that a karate school or something?"

I sighed. "Never mind."

The girl turned to look at our cook. "Have our respirators been fixed, Mrs. Augustine?"

"Yes, dear. You can go play outside again."

"Where's your mommy?" I asked the girl.

Her expression suddenly turned cold. "Grace, you know that isn't funny. If you want to play games, that's fine, but don't you go around making jokes about my mama. Be glad you still have one, Miss...Queen of the Soap Dish!"

I winced. "I'm sorry, I..."

She looked angry now. "I know, I know. _You have amnesia_!"

I resolved not to ask her about her father, either.

I probably shouldn't have cared what she thought of me, but she seemed like a nice kid, and I didn't want to be on her bad side.

"Kamara," I pleaded. "It's not like that. Something really is wrong with my head. I think I...hit it or something. My memory is all fuzzy. I wouldn't intentionally hurt your feelings. Really I wouldn't."

She stared at me, her brown face reddening to mahogany. "This had better not be some stupid game!"

I didn't smile. "Do I look like I'm laughing?"

Her expression softened, and a tear rolled down her cheek. "I knew we shouldn't have taken that shortcut. Not with our oxygen supplies being low like they were. You fell and hit your head. Bad, but you said you were all right."

"I thought I was!" I bluffed.

Mom pulled up a chair next to me, eying me with concern. "Should I get a doctor to check you out?"

I wasn't sure I wanted people forcing me to remember everything and losing myself, so I said no.

I sighed. "I feel okay. It's just...I forget stuff."

After a long pause, she said. "I'll get Dr. Venn to check you out tonight. You're too young to be having memory problems."

"She fell down a hill," said Henry. "A big hill. And you know how that helmet was missing padding. I saw her hit her head. She told me she was fine."

"I don't remember that," I said.

Mom gave me more concerned looks.

I finished my meal, wondering whether or not the pancakes and eggs were store bought.

The moment I put my plate in the...highly advanced dishwasher, mom dragged me to the bathroom and forced Lifebuoy into my mouth.

I gagged a little, but tolerated it more than a little girl my age probably should.

When she had put the soap away, I boldly announced, "Henry is right. The green ones taste better. This one is too mild."

She dug the soap back out. "You want another go?"

I raised a staying hand. "That's okay. I prefer Irish Spring."

"Can I try some?" I heard Buddy Bear saying, but we ignored him.

"Your father's been filling your head with nonsense," mom said. "I'll have you know that all soap tastes basically the same, and I could see by your face that you didn't like the one I gave you, so you'd better mind your tongue, or you'll get some more."

I sighed in resignation, frowning at her.

But then I thought, she's not my mother, she's just my boss's annoying bitch parent, so I stood up to her again. "You're wrong. There's actually a big difference between your soap and Zest and Irish Spring. Irish Spring is sharper. The scent is much more powerful, and the flavor, there's a certain nuance of toast to it, kind of like Brie cheese. And if you actually did have some quality soaps in your cabinets, I'd be..."

I'd be what, cussing a lot more? That would defeat the whole point of this argument!

"Let's just say that I don't see this as punishment, ma'am." Of course, I didn't cuss at her, either.

She snickered a little at this. "You act like you've actually seen a bar of Irish Spring."

"Why is that surprising?"

"You're a mission baby," she said, looking worried again. "We've always wanted to take you home, maybe show you New York, the Grand Canyon, but your father and I made a commitment."

I gawked at her. Grace Augustine was born on some kind of strange missionary colony? "I'm...not on earth."

She rubbed my head. "I really think we should have a chat with Dr. Venn. Just you and I."

After an awkward silence, I said, "Can I go now?"

No please, no formalities. I didn't see the need. After all, this strange woman really wasn't my mother.

She gave me a look that was part worry, part annoyance. "Fine," she sighed. "Go play with your friends."

"You forgot to say please," Buddy Bear whispered to me.

I responded by shoving him face down on the floor.

I met up with Kamara and Henry in a hallway behind the kitchen table. They stood near a door resembling a submarine hatch, the Na'vi watching with impatience as the plump faced girl with the afro fitted a respirator to an astronaut helmet secured around her head.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"Going outside," came the muffled voice beneath the helmet. "What's it look like?"

"So...we're really not on earth," I said.

She looked at me like I were crazy. "You think?"

The lack of a spacesuit, pressure suit, temperature controls and the like indicated I was either on Pandora or some other Pandora-like world where we were only contending with a toxic breathing environment.

"You should get a Bazrok," Henry said as Kamara checked her gauges. "It'll make things much easier."

"They make you really hungry, though," I blurted.

They both stared at me.

"I mean," I stammered. "I've heard."

"You're right," Henry said. "But still, if you break that helmet..."

"I'm not doing that," Kamara said, handing me a helmet.

"It's okay," I said. "I've got one. A Bazrok, I mean."

She wrinkled her face. "No you don't!"

Henry shook his head. "You really don't, Grace. If you don't put that helmet on, you'll die once you're out there."

I frowned at my respirator, then glanced at Henry. "You think you can get me a Bazrok?"

His mouth hung open in shock. "You really...want one? I mean, I know I've asked you about it before..."

I nodded. "If we're walking around in space helmets while you can just...breathe the air..."

"You really must have hurt your head!" Kamara cried. "Those things are disgusting! They get all up in your mouth and stick a big wiggling thing down your throat until you almost choke to death and vomit, and you want that thing in you? What happened to the scaredy cat that didn't even want to touch their Direwolf pups?"

Henry looked very pleased and excited. "People can change," he smiled. "Hurry up and put on your helmet, Grace. I'll take you to see Mo'at."

I did what he suggested, fitting my equipment like I saw Kamara doing. The bear assisted me in making the final adjustments. Although annoying, Buddy had his moments.

A numeric sequence on a panel near the door (a stepstool had been helpfully provided for this) closed a security door behind us, and I could hear mom's voice calling through the PA system. "Come back when your air drops to twenty percent, and don't go past the perimeter! I don't want to have to do CPR again!"

"I don't believe this," the girl said.

Henry whispered something to Buddy Bear and the robot drooped for a moment before straightening up to telegraph the expression of bewilderment. I didn't ask.

With a few turns of the wheel, the hatch opened, and I was staring out into a camp of sorts.

All around me, in a clearing within a sea of jungle plants, I saw large rusty metal domes, surrounded by smaller, similar looking domes arranged in a circle on narrow tunnels, like spokes.

Children seemed to be everywhere, mostly in constructive activities supervised by adults, the humans with their jumpsuits and helmets, the Na'vi in bright colorful robes.

I saw a group of them sitting on the ground, listening as a woman in a helmet read from a book, her voice amplified by a pair of speakers. Na'vi, I guessed, as I couldn't understand a word.

Or could I. I thought I understood enough to know the woman was speaking about Zacchaeus climbing a tree to hear Jesus.

Mixed reactions. Some of them looked bored.

A craft station had been set up a few paces off, and beyond that, a set of looms. The Na'vi were being shown how to fashion clothes for themselves, mostly robes. Yellow `dresses' of sorts, but, judging by what some of the children wore, there was some ingenuity in the choice of design. I saw one pattern that reminded me of Dino.

Other kids played Hide and Seek, or gathered eggs from a caged Ikran.

"This is a mission!" I said with some surprise.

Kamara nodded. "Saint Teresa's. I hear they've got another one planned for construction this spring. Jacob's Ladder's supposed to be carrying the materials."

I blinked. "What's Jacob's Ladder? Some kind of trucking company?"

Kamara sighed. "A spaceship? From the Holy City?" Noticing my blank look, she added, "Rome?"

My jaw dropped. "The Pope has a space program?"

She nodded.

"That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard!"

Kamara only shrugged.

"Is everyone prepared for another beautiful day at Saint Teresa's?" my furry pal exclaimed.

I didn't reply. I just followed Kamara and Henry as they marched across the compound.

The bear followed us, of course.

"Look over there!" Buddy pointed. "It looks like Mrs. Macnamara is sharing another exciting bible adventure!"

"Pass," I groaned.

"I smell something delicious cooking over in Mrs. Johnson's dwelling! Let's go see what she's got on the menu!"

"Pass," said Kamara.

The bear jabbed a paw at a work table where a group of Na'vi children were carving crosses and little sculptures. "That looks interesting! Let's go carving!"

"Pass," said Henry.

"Is there any way to get rid of that thing?" I asked Kamara, pointing at Buddy.

She shrugged. "He's your Buddy Bear. Just put him in his house."

I gawked at her. "He has a house?"

Kamara nodded. "Why do you want to send him away?"

"Was my service unsatisfying?" the bear said.

"Shut up," I told him. "He's annoying. He has cameras. He tattles on me when I cuss. Don't you have a key or something so I can at least take out his battery for awhile?"

"I got a better idea," she said.

Standing in front of the robot with her hands on her hips, she barked, "Friendship is magic!"

Buddy Bear let out a mechanical groan, slumping his head.

"Disables the recording system," she explained. "Also erases the codeword so nobody figures it out. Buddy units are notorious for malfunctioning due to weak signals and electromagnetic interference."

Buddy raised his head, squeezing one eye shut like it were injured. "Yo ho ho. Hoist the Jolly Roger."

"If you want him back online so your mom doesn't do a repair job, just say, "Powerpuff Girls."

The robot groaned, then straightened again. "Let's visit the oxygen farm!"

"Friendship is magic!" I cried.

The bear got squinty again. "Yo ho. Fetch me one of your wenches and your finest rum!"

"We already opened his back weeks ago," Kamara said. "He can even breakdance."

"Why ye standin' around, ye sluggards! Hoist the mainsail this instant, or I'll send ye all for a walk off the plank!"

As we passed the last metal hut, Kamara suddenly blurted, "Hide! It's Mr. Cavender!"

"Hold your ground, ye scurvy dog!" Henry hissed to the bear, and then the three of us abandoned him.

Buddy, to his credit, did not give chase.

I didn't know why we were hiding, but I joined them in running behind one of the metal domes, crouching in the squirming grass between the spokes.

"A pirating we will go," Buddy started singing. "A pirating we will go, hi ho a cherry ho, a pirating we'll go..."

And then I saw a lean black man with a bald head and a hawk-like face marching up to him.

"Hello," he said. "What are you doing out here, Mr. Buddy?"

"A captain goes where he wants!" the bear growled, brandishing an invisible cutlass. "And if ye were smart, I'd be gettin' along, before I send you to meet Davey Jones! Yo ho!"

The man chuckled. Putting his hands on his hips, he looked past the place where we hid, yelling, "Grace! Kamara! Henry! Come out! It's time for lessons!"

"What do we do?" I hissed to Kamara. "They'll find us for sure!"

The girl pulled out a little makeup compact, showing me a miniature computer screen that only appeared to be a mirror. She activated a box on a menu.

"The children be over at Mrs. Johnsons, enjoying the genuine pirate cuisine, and that's the God's honest truth, or my name isn't Ahab."

Mr. Cavender gave the bear a funny look, then turned and walked away.

"Yes!" Kamara hissed.

"Let's go!" said Henry. "While the getting's good!"

We soon reached the edge of the encampment, staring into a wall of jungle growth.

"Thar be the treasure!" Buddy growled.

"Can it!" Kamara hissed, glancing back to see if anyone else was looking for them. "The island savages approach!"

"Ay, first mate!" Buddy said in hushed tones. "I hear `em!"

The bear clammed up, his beady little eyes searching the trees.

"Are you making that up?" I whispered.

She nodded. "See any islands around here?"

I chuckled. "What now?"

"What do you think?"

"I'll take you to see Mo'at," Henry said.

"C'mon Captain," Kamara hissed. "The treasure map leads this a-way."

"Yo ho!"

We marched through the foliage, under glowing jungle vines that blinked at us with multiple eyes, past shrubs full of lollipop shaped fruit that would hurt a man to digest, and maybe me if my other body were affected by things I did to myself there.

As we pushed through a clump of ferns, I noticed one of those floating blue jellyfish things alighting on my shoulder, and I heard a voice saying, "Don't fuck with me, Finch. Those people are dead, and they gonna stay dead, capische? If I see you fucking with mother nature, you're gonna fucking pay. You hear me? _You're gonna fucking pay_!" And then the `blue fairy' flew off.

"Etowah is unhappy!" Henry cried.

"I don't care," I said. "Etowah can kiss my ass."

Henry's blue face flushed red-purple. "Don't let Mo'at catch you speaking like that," he said. "She may not grant you the Bazrok. What you say is highly offensive, even to me, but I excuse this because I am your friend."

"How are you believing in that shit when you're obviously living in a mission?" I paused. "Never mind. Catholics. Stupid question."

Henry's face looked even more purple now.

Buddy, to my great relief, didn't appear to care one bit about my foul language.

The jungle was like a maze. We climbed over so many rocks and dipped through so many channels that I had no idea how to get back, but my cat faced friend seemed to know exactly where to go.

Well, until Buddy Bear tripped something, and we ended up inside a net dangling from a tree branch forty feet above the ground.

I stared in horror at the hard dirt below us. The once giant sized rocks and dead logs looked like twigs from that height.

"What now?" I cried.

"Depending on the tribe," Henry said. "We might end up getting shot and roasted over a fire."

I sighed, pressing my helmet against the net. "Let's hope it's not that tribe."


	84. Chapter 85: Tamtiwa

I stared absently through the net, trying to figure out what was going on.

It seemed obvious now that Sapphire and Steel had psychically sent me back in time to Grace Augustine's childhood, but I still didn't know why, and or what year this was supposed to be.

I was on Pandora again, that part was plain, but I found myself in a strange, unfamiliar location, nowhere nearer to finding the solution to the disgusting brain destroying fungal disease we set out to cure.

Hanging in the net with Henry's body awkwardly pressed against me told me things about my own little body that I really didn't want to know.

I was only, like, maybe twelve, but already, with the sensation of his warm breath and the rubbing of his tail against me and all, I was getting that special tingly sensation between my legs and other places.

I shuddered.

"Move over," I told him, but there really weren't that many places to go in this small net.

On my other side, Kamara had her elbow poking my ribs, and Buddy was weighing down my head.

Henry shuffled sideways a bit, but it wasn't much better.

"Sorry," he stammered. "That's the best I can do."

We silently stared out the net for a few minutes.

"You smell good," Henry said in my ear.

I blushed. "We are not having this conversation."

"What?" he cried. "Is it wrong to compliment you on your perfume?"

I swallowed. "I'm not wearing perfume."

I saw him turning purple. "Oh."

Instead of shutting up, he added, "Still, you smell nice."

"You're being creepy," I said.

I didn't want to admit, even to myself, that I liked it.

I glanced at Kamara. "Can you reprogram Buddy Bear to get us out of here?"

She shook her head.

"Does it come with a saw, or scissors or anything?"

She laughed. "Even if he did, would you really want to use them?" I mean, look at the ground!"

I sighed. "Fuck."

"Didn't your mama make you eat soap for that kind of language?" Kamara asked.

I squirmed as Henry's tail brushed my crotch. "She _did_ mention a soap eating ritual."

"She's not the boss of me." I shoved the tail away. "Will you please not do that?"

Kamara chuckled like she knew something, but didn't say what it was.

"I thought it was important for children to obey their parents," Henry said. "There's even a commandment..."

I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, yeah. But if she's not really my mother..."

"You're being silly," Kamara said. "I mean, you both look identical. How could she not be your mom?"

I just sighed.

For a few minutes, we silently stared through the netting.

"Arrgh me hardies," Buddy Bear said. "Me thinks ye needs a cheerin' up. Hows abouts a jaunty seafaring song?"

"Sure," I groaned.

"From Boston harbor we set sail, when it was blowing a devil of a gale, with a ring-tail set all abaft the mizzen peak, and a rule brittania ploughing up the deep, with a big bow wow, tow row row, fol dee rol dee rye doh day..."

Before the next verse could be sung, Kamara hushed the bear by hissing, "Cannibals!"

When I glanced down, I saw why.

A crowd of blue figures had gathered below our net, arguing with one another as they pointed up at us.

After this had gone on for more than ten minutes, someone cut a rope and we found ourselves slowly descending to the ground.

"Uncle Nop!" I heard Henry exclaim in a non-English language as the net came open, and then he climbed out and hugged one of the creatures, jabbering excitedly about something.

`Uncle Nop' was tall and fat, with a braided beard. A female, about the same age, with spikes in her braids, clung to him so closely that I assumed her to be his wife.

"Prepare your cutlasses, lads," the bear said. "We've been overrun by savages!"

I and Kamara, of course, only ignored him, watching Henry interact with his kind.

Whatever Henry said to this group proved to be controversial.

"The procedure has never been done on a human before," I could have sworn one of them said.

"She volunteered," Henry persisted.

It seemed I could understand this strange tongue, despite the creature in my ear canal not being programmed for it.

"Legally, the mother has to give her consent, or they will charge our tribe with a criminal act. Their laws say a child has no right to make legal decisions."

Alarmed, I climbed out and hurried over to this little powwow.

"I've seen the procedure done before," I said. It was a half truth. "On humans. They lived."

Henry's uncle and the others stared at me in astonishment. "You speak Tamtiwa!"

"Yes," Henry breathed. "She is amazing."

"They lived," I repeated. "I'm tired of having this dumb helmet. Take me to see Mo'at."

Looking shocked, the female next to uncle Nop whispered, "`And she will know your ways as if born to them.'"

The blue figures led me through a cover of dense foliage, to a wooden cage situated within a cluster of trees the size of redwoods.

We stepped inside, and one of my blue companions cranked a primitive pulley, raising us into the canopy.

"Is there a Tree of Souls around here somewhere?" I asked.

The female stared at me in a kind of reverent awe. "Yes, it is here."

Mr. Nop waved at the tall trees surrounding us. "This is the tree of souls."

It was not a singular, but a singular plural, like `cattle.' It seems the movie director had neglected to include _a lot_ of details in his story.

Henry's hometown reminded me of the Ewok village. Crude primitive huts connected by wooden platforms and rope bridges. We marched past several of these huts, enduring the stares of those who stood in the doorways, or sat sewing garments, or cooking.

We crossed bridges, traveling for several yards, to the point where Kamara had to sit down and rest, awkwardly in front of a surly weapon maker.

"Have no fear," the bear said as I dismissed him to her care. "If the savages come near, I'll be teaching _them_ a thing or two with my cutlass, or my name ain't Captain Blackbearded Bear!"

Near the end of this twisting, turning complex, I discovered a hut bedecked with animal bones and leather packets on strings (charms of some kind), its walls painted with arcane symbols, apparently with clay and various naturally occurring substances, maybe blood, judging by the flies.

My guides opened the door, revealing a smoky room containing the most basic of cots, clay vessels full of weeds and various disgusting substances, and a boiling cauldron.

Henry and his uncle led me inside, and the door was shut.

A wrinkly Na'vi with one eye stepped out from behind a curtain, smiling at me.

"Jason?" she said. "Is that really you?"

Henry stared at me in bafflement. "Jason?"

I gawked at the old crone. "How do you know my name?"

"Spin the bottle. I stuck my zanwivus in your mouth and dug around in your mind. It got kind of _personal_. Sound familiar?"

Personal, as in spying on my sex life.

Spin the bottle.

"Holy shit," I cried. "Osmifa!"


	85. Chapter 86: Bazrok Baby

I gawked at the old female. Clad in a dark red robe and a shawl that looked like a cargo net, she didn't remotely resemble anyone I'd seen her being before.

"What is an Osmifa?" I heard Henry asking his uncle.

Nop did not reply.

I knew Osmifa could possess bodies, so it wasn't exactly surprising to find her occupying this old wrinkly Na'vi with skin graying to an off navy blue color.

What shocked me was everything else.

"Wait," I blurted. "I'm decades in the past, or future, maybe centuries. How could you possibly know who I am? We technically shouldn't have even met yet!"

"A unique characteristic of my species," she smiled.

"Uncle!" I heard Henry saying. "Why are they speaking this way?"

"Foolish boy!" the uncle said. "You assume it possible to understand the words of Etowah."

"She speaks the goddess's words?"

Nop nodded. "Your friend is the Wepzajhe. Treat her with reverence."

"Does reverence include kisses?"

The uncle didn't answer.

I stared at the old woman, trying to get a handle on what was going on. "Is this like the meditative techniques that put me into this?" I gestured to my body.

"I suppose you could say that. Do you ever notice how your memory of events change as you grow older?"

I frowned, not believing what she was implying. "You're saying the past keeps changing?"

Osmifa only smirked.

I heard Henry gasp something that sounded like "Sia nok," which caused Nop to nod and repeat the phrase.

I returned my attention to `Mo'at.' "None of this makes any sense."

"You can imagine us being on the same psychic voyage, if it helps you understand any better."

"It doesn't," I said. "You're dead. I saw fungus popping out of your brain."

"Which brain do you refer to? I _live_ in brains."

"So, what," I said. "You're just `rooming' with fungus right now?"

"More like `living around.' Imagine signing the lease to a brand new apartment and finding a tree growing through the living room! It's extremely inconvenient. Right now I'm slowly starving to death."

I sighed. "So this whole trip...Me being Grace Augustine, it's just a cry for help?"

"Jason," she said. "All of humanity is crying for help. I just happen to be the only one you can hear."

"Do you have any clue about what I should be doing? I mean, to save humanity?"

She shrugged. "Your guess is as as good as mine. But I think it's pretty obvious you need to go find the source of this fungus and destroy it before it starts spreading. Either that, or find something that makes everyone immune before the infection breaks out."

I put my hands on my hips. "Why can't you do that?"

Osmifa looked sorrowful. "Believe me, I'm trying. But it's not enough."

She pushed in a tube dangling from my breathing equipment to secure it more tightly. "How's your air?"

I checked my gauges. "We'd better get this over with. Where's the Bazrok?"

Osmifa pulled back a curtain, revealing a second hut, one that resembled a primitive sort of doctor's office. Crude wooden examination table with rudimentary gynecological stirrups, little clay pots containing medical supplies of questionable effectiveness, and a set of scary looking tools, to play Frontier Surgeon with.

The creature lay dormant in a cage fashioned from a bamboo-like material. A bow of insects lay near its head, apparently its food supply.

"You know the drill." Osmifa opened the little gate in the front, drawing the creature out with a dried beetle millipede. "Your mama's going to ask questions if she sees a bunch of Bazrok slime on your clothes. You'd better take them off."

I glanced around to make sure I had privacy.

The windows were covered in thatched screens, and the curtain had been closed the moment we passed through it. I frowned uncomfortably at the withered blue figure. "This is so awkward."

"Think of me as a doctor. That's essentially what I am. Doctor patient confidentiality and all that."

Feeling embarrassed, I unzipped my jumpsuit and stripped to my underwear.

A second after I had done this, I heard the curtain rustling, and I could see Henry's head peeking in.

I gave him the iciest glare I could manage, making him disappear.

I climbed up on the examination table, my legs dangling over the end as I poised my fingers beneath the respirator, ready to take it off.

The curtain moved, and I saw Kamara stepping in, Henry trailing close behind.

"Don't do it, Grace," Kamara said. Even behind the helmet, I could see the worry.

"I don't have a choice," I said. "My O2 is down to twenty percent, and it took twenty to get here. If I get this creature in my body, you can take my air, and we can both go home. Otherwise, one of us will have to die."

I scowled at Henry. "This is a private moment. I'm in my underwear. Girls only."

He shook his head. "I'm here as a friend," he said. "I'm worried for you. This might be the last time we see each other."

I swallowed. "Fine, but I promise, if I survive this thing, this will be the only time you'll see me in my underwear."

Henry grinned. "That's fair."

Then I shuddered. Did I just promise to be naked? I decided to pretend like this conversation never happened.

Osmifa instructed me to lay down, so I did. My friends gathered around the table, watching me with wide eyed fascination and fear.

"This is going to be weird," Osmifa muttered. "This Bazrok is heavy, and I have no equipment, so I have to let it move itself."

And then she's pouring dead bugs all over my body, from my chest to the stirrups near the floor.

"I don't get it," I said. "They could lift the other one without a problem."

"I'm too old, and it is heavy. Be patient."

I waited.

The beast was slug-like, but it had legs, and I found it oozing across my bellybutton before I even knew what was happening. The slime numbed my skin on contact.

"Are they supposed to be this fast?" I said.

Osmifa nodded. "The one in DOGOS was old. Old ones are easier to catch. This one...it's still got some bite."

I flinched, scared enough to bolt.

She touched her hand to my shoulder. "Sorry. Figure of speech. Only meant it has some pep left in it."

The old Na'vi grabbed the thing's tail, coaxing it to turn around backwards, and then I watched, with fascination, as she dragged its hind legs closer and closer to my helmet, massaging the creature's sphincter and a swelling lobe until it started making lazy backwards rocking motions.

"Etowah has smiled on you this visit," Osmifa said. "This female has only recently been fertilized, and it just so happens that the larvae is undeveloped, inadequate for the body of an adult subject."

A tentacle groped at my helmet.

"You're going to have to take that off, honey. I'm sorry."

With a sigh, I undid the fasteners, pulling my breathing equipment off.

I held my breath as long as I could, but I felt something bite me, and I accidentally expelled oxygen.

I gasped like a novice swimmer someone had pushed off a deep end, but the air was not breathable.

"Grace!" Kamara cried.

"Grace! No!" Henry shouted. "Mo'at! Hurry!"

Osmifa unplugged a cord from my helmet, blasted a puff of O2 into my airways, then dragged the creature over my face, the slime numbing my chin and lips like Novocaine.

What happened next was like slow suffocation. The Bazrok made an oozing seal around my mouth, squeezing a crawling slimy blob through my mouth, Osmifa giving me puffs in my nostrils as my friends clasped my hands, muttering confused prayers and promising they were there for me.

When my throat turned numb, I could feel the creature swelling, filling the entire opening, strangling me.

I panicked, thrashing on the examination table, inhaling frantically through my nostrils. I wanted to scream, but couldn't.

"You're killing her!" Kamara yelled, her voice obscured by the helmet.

I could no longer breathe. I saw stars, a sure sign of oxygen deprivation.

Everything went dark.


	86. Chapter 87: Tsailu

I survived the ordeal, but just barely.

The creature the Bazrok expelled happened to be the same exact size as my little trachea. I blacked out for what seemed like an eternity, then, when a glimpse of consciousness returned to me, I noticed the thing elongating, stretching, narrowing.

Osmifa was doing chest compressions, I could tell that much from the discomfort and the mouth on my lips. It seemed ludicrous for a non oxygen breather to expect CPR on an oxygen breather to work, but that's what she was doing.

I gasped, mouth wide open, thinking I would die for real this time, but instead my lungs filled and my breathing seemed to normalize.

I slumped back on the table, relieved but exhausted.

"It worked!" Kamara practically screamed in my ear. "It actually worked!"

"Praise to Etowah and praise God," Henry smiled, twining his fingers into mine.

What disturbed me the most about him doing this was the fact he let go before I did.

Dammit, I thought. I don't want to embrace my feminine side!

Or did I?

I didn't want to admit it, even to myself, but I liked the touch of those warm hands so much I didn't want to let go.

Despite my state of undress, and having sticky alien slime caked all over my body, my friends hugged me the moment I climbed off the examination table.

"I thought you were dead!" Kamara cried. Even through her helmet, I could see tears flowing down her face. "All this time I thought you were joking. I didn't really think you'd go through with it. What you just did, it was incredibly dangerous, and foolish. I really thought you were going to die!" She let out a choking sob.

"But I didn't die," I said, spreading my arms. "I'm fine. And I'm breathing the air."

Kamara frowned. "I don't know whether to kiss you or slug you in the stomach for making me worry."

I swallowed. "Look. I'm sorry, but this is important. I..." I almost told her I had a mission to accomplish, but I knew that wouldn't work, so I said, "You know how I got all messed up from oxygen deprivation. Maybe I want to _live_ on this planet, not just survive."

They stared at me.

"She has great faith in Etowah," Henry breathed.

Feeling awkward and uncomfortable under his gaze, I quickly put on my jumpsuit, then handed Kamara my oxygen equipment.

She stared at it for a moment, then glanced at me in worriment. "You sure you don't need this air?"

I took a deep breath of cyanide. "Supercalifragalisticexpialadotious!"

That seemed to calm her a little. She took the equipment.

Feeling my stomach grumbling, I frowned at Osmifa. "Damn. I forgot how hungry this thing makes you."

Osmifa chuckled softly. "You mean you forgot _what other people said about it making you hungry._"

I reddened, realizing how crazy I sounded. "Yeah. That's what I meant. Must have been the oxygen deprivation."

I gave her a nod and a smile as nonverbal thanks, to which she responded with an expression that seemed to say "_De nada_."

The old Na'vi opened a wicker chest, offering me a round mushroom the size of a cheese wheel.

I leapt back involuntarily. "Holy shit! That isn't-!"

She shook her head. "You think I would intentionally give you head exploding fungus to eat?"

Osmifa glanced at my friends. "_You should stop playing those scary video games._"

The two stared at her for a moment, looking confused and frightened. Osmifa herself looked annoyed and frustrated.

"I...need to speak to Grace alone, about some lady issues." She pointed to her crotch. "This will only take a moment. We're just going to talk, okay?"

The two slowly nodded, but didn't move.

"Now Grace," Osmifa said, looking at me, but giving them irritated sideways glances. "Do you know what menstruation is?"

I fought down a laugh. "Um, I think so."

She sighed with seeming impatience. "Well, you see, there comes a time in every young woman's life when they begin to bleed from rather intimate places..."

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Henry's jaw hanging open, but Kamara quickly hissed something to him, dragging him out of the room.

When they both appeared to be gone, Osmifa again offered me the mushroom. When I refused it, she said, "Seriously, Jason. Why the hell would I be offering you the same shit that killed everyone on the planet? Wouldn't that be a tad unproductive? Especially since the same shit is growing through the middle of my brain house right now?"

She seemed to notice my confusion, for then she added, "I mean, will be? Anyways, _you're immune._"

I took the mushroom, staring at it.

"Eat it. You need the strength."

I tore off a chunk, stuffing it in my mouth. It was like a portobello tinged with sweaty socks, pickle juice and baking soda, but I was starving, so I ate another chunk. "So you don't know where these spore things are or how to get rid of them."

"Honey, I'm just a brain inhabiting alien who's been around awhile. I don't know everything."

"What do you know?"

"I know you gotta pay attention to everything you see when you're kything. You were sent back here for a reason. You have to find out what that reason is, and what's needed to get the job done."

I ate another chunk. "Do you know anything else?"

She nodded. "I know your friend only has twenty percent of her oxygen left, well, forty counting yours, so you'd better hurry back to the mission before she runs out of air."

I tried to hand the mushroom back, but she waved it away.

"Keep it. You might as well eat the whole thing. Bazrok are very needy."

She kissed my cheek. "Good luck. Both of you."

Munching the mushroom, I pushed the curtain aside, marching to my worried friends. "Let's go."

Henry's uncle led us back out through Ewok village and down the elevator thing. Both Kamara and Henry stared at me in amazement as I finished off half of the `wheel', then nibbled on the other part.

Pirate Bear, of course, trailed behind us after Kamara told it we were returning to the Black Pearl.

We entered the jungle, and we were on our own.

"Why was Mo'at talking to you about menstruation?" Kamara asked.

I thought about saying something witty about not being comfortable discussing it with my mom, but instead I made something up.

"It's a side effect of the Bazrok," I lied. "I guess it changes the color of the stuff that comes out."

"That doesn't sound good," she frowned.

"No," I said. "But it's not harmful."

"I've never heard of this," said Henry. "The females of my tribe..."

"It's different for humans," I said. "And you've spent most your life in a mission."

I guess I bluffed correctly, for his eyes got so wide that he looked like an amazed feline from a cat litter commercial. _What? You don't have to scoop?_

I hid a chuckle. "C'mon," I said. "How do we get back?"

Henry led us on through the foliage, past a giant tree with ropey vine-like branches that shoved clods of soil into a swollen knothole filled with purple tendrils. Occasionally a small squeaking animal got caught in its clutches, and the thing ate it just like dirt.

"Sawwuban," Henry muttered. "We're too big for it, so it should leave us alone."

Still, we hurried away from it in fear.

I heard a buzzing alarm.

Kamara stopped, leaning against a tree. She looked winded.

"Your air!" Henry said.

Kamara's helmet turned to face me, hands poised on one of the air tanks. She offered it to me. "You sure this is all right?"

I nodded. "Would you like me to recite the Pledge of Allegiance?"

Blank look. "Allegiance to what?"

"America," I groaned. "What else?"

"What's an America?" Henry said.

I smacked my face. "Never mind. Please. Take the air tank. It's yours."

Kamara looked guilty, but her desperation for breathable air took over and she quickly switched tanks, giving me the empty one.

We continued at a brisker pace.

"What's all this Jason stuff?" Kamara asked me. "And what's an Osmifa?"

"Yeah!" Henry said. "It's like they knew each other!"

"Uh..." I stammered. "She's a...penpal. A few weeks ago, I was sneaking around the mission late at night and bumped into her. She was picking berries or something. We sometimes write letters to each other."

Kamara furrowed her brow. "On paper?"

Until then, the thought hadn't occurred to me that maybe they didn't use paper in their futuristic society, unless the Na'vi make something out of tree bark and leaves.

"Uh...no. Electronically."

Now it was Henry's turn to look skeptical. "My kind are forbidden to use human technology."

"You mean to tell me that Na'vi never use a single piece of human technology at the mission?"

He frowned. "That's different. We're just kids. It's forbidden to all others in my culture, upon threat of expulsion. If Mo'at used such communication devices, the tribe would shun her."

I nodded. "That's why it's a secret. To make sure no one found out."

Judging by Henry's `_No more messy catbox_' expression, my lie worked.

"That sure explains a lot," Kamara said with a pouty look. "You didn't even tell your friends!"

"That _is_ kind of low of you," Henry agreed, but he didn't seem offended.

Rather, the opposite. He appeared to be in awe.

"Let's build a fort, me hardies!" the bear said. "We can load our muskets and keelhaul these savages!" Buddy then glanced at the Na'vi. "No offense, Friday my good man."

"Sorry, Bearbeard," Henry said. "The uh...Angle-Land is attacking the Black Pearl!"

"The ruffians!" the bear growled. "We've got no time to lose!"

And he stomped ahead of us.

"Where's he going?" I asked.

"GPS," said Kamara. "He's going to the swing set."

"Why couldn't we have programmed him to find Mo'at?"

"I don't know," Kamara said. "You're the one who's friends with her."

"But I don't know how to program the bear!" I cried.

"You must still be messed up in the head," she said. "Pirate Bear was _your idea_."

I swallowed. "That's right. I hope to get over this soon."

"Funny how you can forget things like that while you suddenly seem to know all kinds of things you really shouldn't!"

The mushroom thing was now nothing but a triangular wedge. I had eaten it that far down.

"Have you ever read about people with amnesia?" Henry said. "Sometimes the people with brain damage wake up with a completely different personality."

I smiled at him with newfound admiration. I loved him! I really did!

I have to get out of this body soon, I thought. But a part of me didn't want to.

By the time we reached the mission, I had devoured the entire mushroom.

Kamara gawked at me. "You ate that whole thing!"

I just shrugged.

Soon we were pushing through the tangled plants leading to the mission's well manicured lawns.

"Put on your equipment," Henry hissed to me.

I stared at him. "What? Why?"

"You want to end up in the infirmary?"

I gulped. "Good point." And I put my helmet on.

Henry yanked a few tubes out, and I found I could still breathe the outside air.

"Thanks."

The suit was making alarm sounds, but Henry silenced them with a few button presses.

"You are so shunned," I chuckled.

Henry smiled, and I thought I could see him blushing purple.

He pointed to Kamara. "We should hurry."

And so we rushed her to "my house", stopping inside the airlock just a few seconds before her air alarm started going off.

I reached up to shut the airlock, but Henry pulled my hand away.

"What?"

He held a finger to his lips, turning to Kamara. "We're going to go play at the Black Pearl. Will you be okay until you get another air tank?"

She gave us a funny look, but nodded and waved us on.

Henry quickly dragged me outside, closing the hatch.

"What was that about?" I said.

"C'mon," he grinned. "There's something I want to show you."

Something.

To show me.

Without Kamara.

My heart pounded in my chest as I wondered about it.

We ducked out of the way of a passing missionary, and soon I was being led back out into the jungle.

I don't know why nobody else was patrolling that area, but they weren't.

We pushed past the plants, and as soon as we were out of view of the mission, he was taking my helmet off.

"There," he said. "You're much more beautiful this way."

"What did you want to show me?" I said, half dreading the answer.

He grinned. "Since you're so good at keeping promises, you've got to promise you won't tell anyone what I'm going to show you."

What are we going to see? I thought. This sounds like a big deal! I was picturing everything from massive Ikrans to giant caves filled with gold.

"I promise," I exclaimed. "Now what's this about?"

He responded by kissing me on the mouth.

At first, my arms were flailing around in shock, maybe fear, but the sandpapery tongue with the shark's ridge was surprisingly gentle, and I found myself kissing back, almost involuntarily.

I caught myself and pushed him away. "We can't be doing this," I blurted. "I'm only, what, twelve years old?"

"You turn thirteen in a month," he smiled. "I'm only a few months younger than you."

I trembled. "This isn't right. I...I..."

What could I really say? It wasn't like I hadn't slept with aliens before, and I felt like a hypocrite trying to preach abstinence. We weren't even that different, age wise. Certain primitive cultures didn't care about things like this. I wasn't about to tell him who I really was, so that would never figure into the discussion.

We ended up kissing again.

And then he was leading me into a clearing, tugging on the zipper of my jumpsuit.

I pushed him away. "No!"

He grinned. "That's right. Because you promised I wouldn't see them."

He pulled his robe over his head, tossing it aside. Underneath, he wore only a yellow loincloth.

"There. Now we're even."

I'd be lying if I said I wasn't staring. He looked..._nice_.

"I...I don't know," I stammered, but my resolve was weakening.

He sat down on a patch of wiggling grass and crossed his legs, motioning for me to sit across from him.

It seemed fairly innocent, so I joined him, and we held hands, gazing into each other's eyes.

Okay, so I might have gazed at some other things too. I particularly liked how the glittery yellow speckles stood out on his bare blue skinned chest.

Before I knew what was happening, he was holding one of his hair braids up to my face.

I scooted back, horrified.

Don't let them stick any part of their bodies into you, Gary had said. Yes, I already tried out his tongue, but still. It frightened me.

Ibira had been so afraid of it happening that she blew a Na'vi's brains out.

"What's wrong?" he said, and I thought about that body possessing twin that fucked up my life.

"Stay...back!" I yelled.

Henry looked like I'd slapped him. "I'm not going to hurt you, Grace."

He offered his braid. "I only want to share the intimate things of my heart. I want to know everything about you. I love you. Must you keep me outside?"

He loves me. I mouthed the words, but didn't dare allow the sounds to come out.

I stopped retreating, staring at him. Staring at his chest. His abs. Why did they forbid this?

He crept closer, offering the braid to me.

I nearly threw up when I saw the hair thin tapeworm-like wiggling things popping out the end.

"This is what we use to communicate," he said. "And reproduce."

"It's gross," I said, scooting back.

"What do you think I felt when I saw what your people have?"

I shook my head. "I don't get it. What are we doing?"

"I want to show you Tsailu."

"I have no place to put that thing," I muttered.

"I can think of a few places," he laughed.

"No underwear," I reminded him.

This only made him laugh more.

"That's not what I meant," I said quickly.

"Sure it isn't," he purred.

And then he starts playing with my nose.

"What are you doing!" I cried.

"I've heard this is the most direct passage to the brain."

I pushed him back so hard that he fell on the ground. "You're not fucking with my brain! What the hell's the matter with you!"

He pushed himself to a sitting position. "What the hell's the matter with _you_? Don't you love me?"

My jaw fell open. "I...yes!" It came out as a little squeak.

"Then...show me."

I swallowed.

I found myself crawling back to him on my hands and knees.

I sat close to him, practically nose to nose...or muzzle. "If you fuck up my brain, I'll kill you."

"I'll be gentle," he said with a soft chuckle.

He pressed his braid into my nostrils, and I felt thousands of tiny worms squirming up my nasal passages with a rich honeyed animal musk.

And then it happened.

Everything.

Memories. Dreams. Visions. None of them mine. All rushing into my consciousness.

And feelings. Oddly masculine feelings that weren't mine or Grace's.

I felt the hunger. The despair The loneliness. Echoing my own, but somehow foreign.

I don't know why he didn't sense the real me living vicariously through Grace's mind, but he didn't.

Instead, I found myself immersed in a flood of images from Grace and Henry's memories. What they did together in the months previous. What they did in private when no one was looking.

I grieved for Henry's lost parents, I smiled at his happy moments at the mission, and with family in the so-called "Tree of Souls."

Soon we were beyond thoughts and memories, and strange oddly pleasurable feelings traveled down every inch of my body, simultaneously male and female sexual sensations combined in all enveloping waves that rippled ever downwards.

We were barely even touching each other, except for our intertwined hands and the braid, but my eyelids fluttered as I drew in shuddering breaths, letting out soft moans, like doing far more than touching.

And then I felt it.

Fully clothed, legs crossed innocently, hands doing nothing but clutching Henry's, and I still felt an incredible wave of pleasure erupting between my legs, warmth radiating outward in powerful throbbing waves.

My underwear dampened. This was so wrong!

Did my boss actually do this when she was this age? Was all the psychological damage, or the frustrated sexual longing, the cause of her cold unfriendly demeanor, or did I just rewrite her history and turn her into a mentally sick nymphomaniac?

In the heat of the moment, I wasn't sure if I cared.

Henry was mewling loudly like an old tomcat, but I didn't laugh because I could feel what he felt, and the sounds were escaping my mouth too.

As we wrapped our arms around each other, purring and rocking back and forth, bathing in the waning afterglow, I suddenly noticed we weren't alone.

A group of five adults in respirators and helmets stood around us, the faces inside the helmets looking cold and unfriendly, horrified and disgusted.

"I guess we were too loud," I whispered.

He chuckled. "You think?"

"You sounded like a mad cat in heat!" I hissed.

"And you sounded like an Ikran with its lotrupko stapled together! I bet they could hear you all the way to the other end of the jungle!"

We both giggled at that.

One of the figures stomped over to Henry, ripping his hair braid from my nose and shoving him to the ground. The sensation of the rough disconnection was like someone running a knife across my crotch.

A pair of men kicked and beat Henry, making me cry so bad that I had to look away.

I heard them ordering him to never return to the mission, which made me cry worse.

Another pair of helmeted figures, a man and a woman, grabbed me by the arms, dragging me back to the compound.


	87. Chapter 88: Dr Venn

The first thing my captors did was drag me to the medic's building.

The medical center was located at the far end of the compound, and it contained about ten steel cubes full of futuristic equipment.

They stripped me naked, on account of them thinking Henry raped me, and laid me down on an examination table, a padded rubber one like they use in real doctor's offices.

A cordless EKG machine and oxygen meter monitored my vitals on a little device, and a MRI `hat' was fastened to my head.

It was in this awkward position that I at last encountered the famous Dr. Venn.

In appearance, he resembled a giant human mole in a lab coat. Slumped shoulders, long, fat bear-like arms, and hands like animal paws. Short cropped hair, beady little eyes peering out a set of square glasses. His tiny little ears were set low on his face, and he had a small pointy nose which suited his fat head.

The doctor introduced himself as "Venn Medical Assistance Unit 374." At first I thought it was a joke, but when I asked, he said he was, in fact, an android.

When I said that was bullshit, he opened a panel on the back of his wrist, exposing a USB port.

"Ordinarily, I maintain the appearance of a human being when doing medical evaluations," he said in a dry monotone. "But I understand the socio-emotional taboos regarding issues of sexual reproduction, so I need to emphasize the fact that I am neither male nor female."

They examined everything. And I mean _everything_. At my mother's prompting, Dr. Venn swabbed, probed and tested just about every part of my body.

At last he said, "I see no signs of bleeding, external or internal, indicating any sort of unorthodox bodily intrusion, voluntary or involuntary, and a swab of her reproductive organ shows no presence of foreign fluid. This is not to say there wasn't sexual activity. Residue of certain fluids, and swelling in key erogenous areas indicates..."

"Stop," Mother cried in disgust. "I get the picture." She shook her head.

Venn nodded. "Judging by the data collected by my sensors, there are no indications of rape, unless you define rape as ingesting a large gas converting symbiote."

"Then what's that slime all over her body?" Mother asked.

"That's a secretion from the symbiote." The doctor cleared his throat, which I guessed he did only for the purposes of communication, as I doubted robots could get chest congestion. "The good news is, your daughter can breathe both oxygen and cyanide gas."

Mother frowned. "I think that part's obvious. I hear she was breathing pretty heavily when they found her in that Tamtiwa boy's arms."

I blushed.

"Her body is functioning normally. The only change is an unusually elevated metabolism, to support the creature. It's a harmless symbiosis."

"What is this symbiote?" she shouted, her face pale. "You can't know that it's harmless. What's it going to do to her?"

Venn paused, but as an android, he was unrattled by mom's hysterics.

"As stated previously, it is a gas exchanging organism, one which allows Grace to exist outside in the toxic environment without oxygen equipment. So far the scans show it to be benign, the only side effect being an increased metabolism, since she is now essentially eating for two."

That answer didn't set well with my mother, for she then asked, "Can it be removed?"

"Maybe if we made the attempt a few hours ago, but not now. Internal scans show the symbiote has bonded so completely with the alveoli that they appear to be one unit. To attempt an excision at this juncture would be to risk impairment of your daughter's breathing functions, which, according to my current calculations, are significantly above average for human beings her age on this compound."

"Are you sure that isn't due to the asthma shots last month?"

Venn shook his head. "If anything, that shot should have worn off over time, not strengthened."

There were quite a few things I felt like saying during this exchange, but I was an adult in a kid's body, so I could guess what would happen if I uttered any of them. I held my tongue.

"So no fluids of any sort anywhere," Mom said. "Nothing unusual."

"Well," Venn said with simulated hesitancy. "I wouldn't say there _wasn't anything unusual at all. _Swabs of her mouth contain traces of Tamtiwa saliva, and her mucus membranes in her nose are tinged with a substance common to Tamtiwa hair fronds."

"What about her brain?" Mom asked. "Did he damage her brain?"

"Scans indicate no serious breaches. It appears that these hair fronds took advantage of natural openings connecting the nose and brain package to perform a relatively non-invasive electrochemical exchange. The slight disturbances in brain foldage indicate deep but unharmful neurochemical contact, possibly all the way to the brain stem."

Mother looked horrified. Almost about to scream. "Could this..._brain disturbance_ be causing my daughter's strange personality changes?"

Venn gazed vacantly into space. "Processing."

Then, after we stared at him for a minute, he said, "Insufficient data. No MRI scans of brain activity or brain tissue shape within the last thirty days."

Now both adult Jason and young Grace needed to keep quiet.

In fact, I needed to say something a normal kid would say to take away some of the heat. Something _Grace_ would say.

The only thing I could think of were weak arguments in defense of my boyfriend and blurting, "I love him." I could tell none of that would help my case, or his, in the slightest. The wisest approach, therefore, seemed to be "Shut up and wait."

"Can we repair the damage?" Mom asked. "To her brain?"

"I'm not really sure I'd call that damage. Although the neural tissue appears to have been micro-rumpled, likely to provide passage for the hair tendrils, the disruption was very careful, almost like a massage. If anything, the abrupt disconnection you described seems to have caused more damage than the initial contact."

Mom slapped the doctor hard across the face, but he showed no sign of pain or outrage. Instead, he dryly commented, "I understand it is distressing for a parent to discover their child has been engaging in sexual activity, but experimentation is a natural phase of human physical maturation."

He got slapped again.

"Would you like me to say ouch, or would you prefer a pained grimace?"

Seething, mom clenched her fists, but I think she figured a slug to the stomach wouldn't produce any more reaction than a slap.

Instead, she turned and frowned at me.

"What were you thinking!" she growled with her hands on her hips.

"I was thinking I'm in love," I said in an awkward squeak. "I was thinking, it felt really good."

Mom's face turned beet red with anger, possibly embarrassment. "Shower that shit off and get dressed. We're going to have a little chat."

I put my dirty clothes back on and walked out of the medical building, sans helmet. People stared at me, but it felt glorious to walk around and breathe unencumbered.

It was nearing dusk, the illumination fading. Most the children were inside. Well, the human ones were. Na'vi were still out, listening to the black dude reading about David and Goliath.

A Na'vi girl stopped me, asking if I wanted to play tag or maybe football, as the other humans were too sissy to deplete their oxygen in this manner, but I said I was in trouble and we'd have to play later.

The moment I got through the airlock of my `home' and stepped into the kitchen, Kamara hugged me.

"I was worried!"

I frowned. Worried enough to send a search party?

Well, no sense ruffling feathers when the horses were already out of the barn. She was just a dumb kid, after all. Probably meant well.

"I'm okay," I muttered.

Her eyes were wide, her mouth hanging open. "Is it true?"

I blushed. "Is what true?"

Her voice lowered conspiratorially. "You know! You and Henry!" And then, in a stage whisper, "I heard you two _did it_, you know, _out in the jungle._"

My face turned a shade redder. "I guess I sorta did."

"You guess!" she practically yelled. "You _guess_ you _sorta did_? How could you not know?"

"I never took my clothes off," I said in a squeaky voice.

Her jaw dropped wider, but she was stunned speechless.

"It's their hair," I said. "It's just like in the movie..."

I corrected myself.

"I mean, it's like a computer wire, and he stuck it in my brain."

She stared at me, jaw slack. "He stuck his hair. In your brain."

I nodded. "It was a little weird...but _it felt good._"

"Is that the real reason why you've been acting so weird?"

"I don't know," I said. "Would you have noticed if it had been?"

Kamara looked awestruck, maybe even jealous. "You think you know someone..."

I sighed. "It doesn't really matter now. They sent him away. He's never coming back."

Her lip trembled. "I thought he was just staying with family for awhile."

I shook my head slowly. "You don't let people back in when something like this happens."

She broke into tears, crying on my shoulder, which in turn caused me to cry.

And then she spoiled it by saying, "We played doctor once."

I awkwardly patted her back.

After another awkward moment, I broke away from her, returning to my room.

When I stepped through the doorway, I found Buddy Bear standing rigidly in the way, paws at his sides like he'd just been assembled on a factory conveyor belt.

I attempted to step around, and when I did, the robot's eyes glowed with a brilliant blue light, and its throatless rounded Teddy Ruxpin mouth started moving.

"Mr. Finch, you need to move quickly, before Grace is placed under physical twenty four hour surveillance. Throw this machine over your back and hurry outside. We haven't any time to lose."

It was Steel, obviously. The `goddess' usually cussed and used nature as his mouthpiece, rather than machinery.

"But I haven't showered," I protested.

"They are waiting for you to shower. The delay will result in your confinement. The memory matrix shows a clear path to the east if you go now."

"But I don't know east from west!" I cried.

"Just face the direction of your boyfriend and run in the opposite way."

I guessed he meant the tree village, but was that really where Henry was? I shook my head in frustration.

"Hurry!" Buddy said.

As quick as I could, I threw the bear over my shoulder and bolted outside, hoping and praying that Steel was right.

A second later, I see mother running up the path, charging straight toward me.

"Just where do you think you're going, young lady!"


	88. Chapter 89: Rain of Terror

The woman was big, slow, and had to wear a respirator.

I thought I had the upper hand, but Buddy wasn't a mere teddy bear. He was a machine. He slowed me down.

Plus, I think my body naturally wasn't in the best of shape due to having to wear a space helmet all day long, and the Bazrok wasn't adapted to my little lungs efficiently enough for cardio.

Before I could get away, mom caught me in her big arms, pinning me against her enormous bosom. It seemed mom wasn't as sluggish as I originally thought.

"Oh no you don't!" she growled. "No daughter of mine is going to run off and be some Tamtiwa's jungle whore!"

"I'm not your daughter!" I yelled.

She slapped me. Hard.

"I may not be able to ovulate, but you came out of my womb, dammit! You will respect and honor me as the woman God chose to give you life!"

"I'm confused," I said. "I thought Catholics didn't believe in fertility clinics!"

She slapped me again. "You're going to believe in my belt once I get you inside!"

Hearing an airlock hissing open, I turned to look.

Kamara had stepped outside, staring at us. "Whatcha doing, mama?" she asked.

"Never mind that!" Mom shouted. "Just go back inside!"

Instead of obeying, she pulled off her helmet, taking a breath of toxic air. Her knees buckled and she collapsed on the ground.

"Kamara!" Mom cried in horror, dropping me like a hot stone.

As she rushed to my friend's aid, I caught a glimpse of a little brown hand giving me the thumbs up.

"Go," she mouthed.

I turned and ran.

I left the bear where it was. I had no choice. Steel would have to give me his information some other way, or send Buddy to me.

I reached the east end of the complex just seconds before the first arrow came whistling down.

Beyond the well trimmed perimeter of the camp, I could see the archers. Thickly muscled blue figures with snouts and ridiculously large pointed ears. The tips of their arrows were crude spear points and flaming torches.

I didn't want to see what they did, I just dove into the foliage as quickly as I could, realizing that I'd lost the element of surprise the moment I came running in their direction.

I heard the sound of bow strings snapping, screaming, and a chaotic din of shouting voices. When I glanced back, I saw fires blazing on the mission grounds, and dead bodies sprawled all over the dirt.

The door to my dwelling came open, and when my surrogate mother stepped out, the sky darkened with arrows again, and she collapsed with an arrow shaft stuck in her chest.

Shuddering, I turned and hurriedly shoved my way through the weeds and clumps of jungle ferns.

All of a sudden, I feel a rough hand yanking me out by my hair, dragging me behind a tree.

A warty pig face scowls at me, uttering soft snorts as its brow furrows.

"Well well well!" it growled. "If it isn't the bitch from Corporate!"

The pig grabbed me by the neck, forcing me into his face. Its breath smelled like prunes, rotten bagels, and farts, filling my nostrils as we locked eyes, staring at each other.

"I know you're in there, faggot, so you better listen to me, and you'd better fucking listen good. I don't know what you're doing with all this temporal screwing around and shit, but if you fuck with the grand design and bring any of your nature raping assholes back from the dead, I'll make you pay. I know right now you're immune to The Spore, but if you fuck up my plans, by God, I'll make you _unimmune_! In fact, what happened to your friends will be fucking humane compared to what I'll do to you. Think about _that_, motherfucker!"

He dropped me on the ground, beating me and kicking me in the stomach until I cried.

From allergies to biting insects to poisonous snakes, I have always found nature to be unworthy of worship. This attack didn't exactly improve my opinion.

"Bet that makes you feel like a big man," I sobbed. "Beating up on a little girl!"

He kicked me again. "Take my advice, you wimpy cocksucker. Stay out of my shit and you won't get hurt. Comprendé?"

When I didn't reply, he pulled my hair, lifting me to his face. "I said comprendé, motherfucker!"

"Yes!" I blubbered. "I understand!"

He dropped me. "Good. Now go back to your office of skull fucked corpses and leave me the hell alone!" And he disappeared into the jungle.

I may have been in a little girl's body, but I wasn't going to take shit from anyone. I resumed my quest for the killer `shrooms, pushing through bushes of stuff that looked like blue elephant ears, dodging grabby hanging vines.

I hadn't gone five yards before I found myself surrounded by loincloth wearing pig creatures, all snorting and pointing spears in my face.

The real Na'vi had found me.


	89. Chapter 90: Shrooming

Giant leaves and squirming plants tickled unpleasantly against my bare skin as the beasts carried me through the jungle with about as much care as one would give to a deer carcass. Dirty blue claws touched me in ways a twelve year old should never be touched. I started shuddering and ended up crying.

If the real Grace Augustine went through all this, I thought. It's no wonder she acts like a bitch. I would too. Or maybe _I will_ _too_.

After awhile, the foliage fell away and we came into a clearing filled with squalid little poorly constructed huts. Swarms of flies in a variety of colors attacked me, and I could not move my hands to shoo them away. With flies landing on my lips, my eyelids, and other _places they should not be_, I felt like one of those Ethiopian kids on a Feed The Children commercial.

The pigs had a huge bonfire going, and in its light I could see the posts decorated with skulls, many of which appearing to be human.

As I noticed the glowing eyes glaring at me from the growing dark, I decided there were far worse predicaments than being punished by a fat cow in a missionary camp.

I was carried to a pole along one side of this blaze and tied to a hook by my ankles, dangling upside down in the sweltering heat.

The blood rushed to my head, the splintery wood prickling my naked flesh. They had re-tightened my wrist restraints, but hadn't bothered to secure them to anything, so, under the right circumstances, I could potentially effect my escape by doing sit-ups.

These were not the right circumstances. Unless they were really really stupid.

The rpoblem was, the longer I waited, the more blood would rush to my head, and the less likely I'd be able to think rationally enough to escape, which is what they wanted, apparently.

Still, waiting seemed to be the best idea. I wiggled away flies, staring at my captors as they grunted and pointed at me.

We stared at each other for a long time, but I provided them no entertainment, even when they poked and prodded at me. Even when they touched me in private places.

The more they touched me, the more I wanted revenge.

Still, I bided my time.

Eventually, a pair of them brought in a couple dead mission guys and they lost interest in me.

I watched with horror as the Na'vi gutted and roasted a victim's sawn off limbs.

The smell was intolerable. War journalists weren't wrong about burning bodies smelling like diseased pork. I swore off eating bacon right then and there.

Oblivious to the flies, the pigs sat down on logs, consuming their repast.

The corpse, and a section of the second, appeared to be sufficient food for the assembled group, for they tossed their bones in the fire and a sort of shaman stood up, clad in a mantle of bones and skins, snorting self importantly about something or another.

I cringed as it pointed a claw at me, but it turned out to be a false alarm, for it then grunted and pantomimed various things, winged creatures and big beasts, previous hunts, I guessed, the machine-like motions being the most telling. I gathered they had destroyed some land vehicles and an air vehicle.

The shaman passed around a stone bowl full of white powder, lighting up its contents, waving it all around the campfire before throwing it in.

The substance burst from the flames in a big purple cloud, and I found myself inhaling it.

My mind went on a magical mystery tour as the fumes from..._whatever it was_ entered my brain. Everything looked animated, my captors taking on the appearance of Moblins from the Legend of Zelda cartoon.

The creatures laughed and pointed at nothing, snorting in confused conversations.

I heard the sounds of rattling drums and flutes, and a line of slender looking Na'vi came out, nuzzling my captors' faces and caressing their bodies.

What followed I could only describe as an orgy.

Now, I thought with a throbbing head, if anything, is my time to escape. And I did a hard sit-up, fumbling with the knots around my ankles.

As I touched the rope, it turned into snakes, but I still had my wits about me, so I intellectually knew I was only hallucinating.

My little fingers fought with the snakes, struggling to unravel them, but these were like thick boat ropes, tied by very strong hands. I really had to fight to get even a part of the knot undone.

One of the pigs pointed to me, trying to alert the others, but he was high, so he only broke into giggles and fell over his log.

I snapped a nail and my finger bled, but I didn't care. None of that would matter if I didn't get away.

I hit my head on the ground before I properly understood what I had accomplished.

In a daze, I staggered to my feet, grabbing the nearest available weapon, a crude stone knife embedded in a shank of man. In my drug induced Neverland, the knife looked like a light saber, despite it being along the lines of either Clovis or Folsom caveman weapons.

The moment I had the blade pulled out, one of the more clear headed pigs tried to grab me, but I raised my hands above my head and stabbed him in the chest, twisting the knife around for good measure. I swore I saw music pouring out of his wound.

I knew, if the beast had any fight left in him, I'd be in trouble, so I dove between his legs, punched him in the crotch, and stole his knife.

The other Na'vi were busy with their orgy, even the shaman, so I was able to quickly dart between the copulating bodies and escape. Once or twice, a muscular arm tried to grab me, but I slashed at it until it let go.

I only got a few yards down the path leading from camp when a big thickly muscled Na'vi planted his hooves in front of me like a sumo wrestler. I slashed at his kneecaps, but he yanked my hair, ripping the knife out of my hands.

That's when I heard the agonized squealing.

Glancing back, I saw one of the pigs' heads exploding, white fungus bursting out through a crack in its cranium. The female atop him shrieked in horror.

I thought that stuff had a longer gestation period, but then again, I'd never seen anyone intentionally lighting it up and smoking it.

When the second head burst, my attacker released me, and I stumbled aimlessly into the jungle.

"Steel!" I cried as I pushed through dense ferns that clutched at my bare skin. "Steel! Where are you!"

I found the man seated at a cafe table on top of a massive flat topped mushroom, with a hookah smoking caterpillar occupying the chair across from him.

"I'm here," I heard the man saying, though his lips didn't move.

"I thought you were going to give me directions," I said.

"You are already where you need to be."

I frowned. "So you're not going to help me?"

"We only knew the general direction of the spore. If the Na'vi have it, it must be nearby."

I staggered backward. "I'm thirsty."

The caterpillar held up a glass decanter. "Drink this."

Licking my lips, I stepped closer, but the bottle was gone.

The caterpillar and mushroom vanished, and I was only looking at a suited figure crouched on the very tip of a narrow little leaf. It defied physics.

"The spore requires moisture in order to grow. I would not recommend drinking anything."

And then a pair of green wolves crept out of the bushes around the man, eyes glowing red as they growled at padded closer. They looked like wild dogs wrapped in sod.

The man straightened his back, and a huge set of bird wings exploded out behind him. His eyes flared a brilliant crimson.

"I told you not to fuck with me, asshole! Hope you like being skull fucked! I pray to God it gets both of you, you worthless pieces of no good shit!"

I staggered further into the foliage, not thinking about where I was going.

Hearing a low growling up ahead, I turned and saw another pack of green wolves, conspiciously gathered around a thicket.

And not only gathered..._singing_.

"Call any vegetable,

Pick up the phone,

Think of a vegetable,

Lonely at home,

Call any vegetable and all and the chances are good,

That vegetable will respond to you..."

It sounded like a recording, but their muzzles moved, like animatronic robots.

Unconsciously, I found myself grabbing handfuls of plant matter and raising them to my lips. It took a great deal of power to throw them aside. It seemed I would not be long for this world.

I had to do something, and fast. If I had infected my real self through the course of this ordeal, there would be no one to take care of Haman and nothing to show for all the pain and suffering I just went through. I preferred to die a hero rather than lay down and become a fungus planter.

Raising the knife, I let out an angry scream and charged straight into one of the wolves, plunging the knife deep into its neck.

As its blood coursed down my naked body, it ripped its claws into me, and its fellow pack members went on the offensive.

I'm not sure what happened after that, but somehow I found myself falling through a dark hole in the ground, dizzy and bleeding from innumerable cuts, animal bites and claw wounds.

I hit my head on a rock, slid down a slanting boulder, then fell a good six to twelve feet onto the hard slimy floor of an enormous cavern.

I looked up and saw I was surrounded by hundreds of massive man eating plant things.

One my one, their mouths opened, and a white fog belched out.

I even saw one opening above my head, but I was too weak to move.

Spores rained down like snow.


	90. Chapter 91: Mudepa Root

Feeling dizzy, and coated with a disgusting mix of drying blood and mushroom spores, I staggered to my feet, aching from the multitude of injuries.

My head throbbed, both from the landing and from something else I didn't want to think about.

The spores.

The powdery shit had dusted just about every open cut on my body. I might as well have put the poison in an IV bag and stuck it in a vein.

It was a wonder I wasn't dead.

And, as I wandered aimlessly through the cave, coughing and blinking in the dust of innumerable belching plants, I considered my living a miracle.

My discovery of an exit was pure luck. I could have just as easily fallen down a shaft and broken every bone in my body.

Instead, I found a rough staircase-like formation of inclined boulders, which I climbed until I found myself blinking with confusion at a starry sky, jungle plants brushing against my naked body.

I caught myself chewing on a big leaf, throwing it away in horror.

I blacked out just a few seconds afterward.

I awoke inside a wooden hut smelling of burnt popcorn and spoiled milk. Animal bones and herbs dangled over my bed in sort of a mobile.

I was wrapped in a blanket of skins, and my whole body felt itchy.

The blue face of my alien boyfriend appeared above me, smiling in his yellow robe. "Grace! Thank God you're all right! When I saw you eating plant leaves, I thought I lost you!"

I lifted up my covering, staring down the length of my body.

I was still naked, of course, but someone had treated my wounds with some kind of sticky sap that itched like crazy.

I frowned. "How come I'm not dead?"

He laughed. "You make it sound like that's a bad thing."

Then he sighed. "You were lucky. I found the ripped clothes and your bear wandering in the woods near the Na'vi encampment. Then I caught wind of your scent."

"My scent?" I stammered.

He blushed, giving me a bashful nod. "How can I remember a fragrance like that? I was like a Fesmalta bee, tracing the scent of a Dunlisu blossom from thousands of miles distant. When we made Tsailu, I..."

"I get it, I get it!" I groaned. "You still haven't explained why I'm not a human mushroom farm."

He smiled. "You can thank Mo'at for that. She borrowed some kind of potion from Shelondia, the elder shaman. We've been pouring it on your wounds and in your mouth. It seems to be helping."

I stared at him. "You found a cure?"

He nodded. "I think so. You've been resting for hours like this with no symptoms of Rigtarbu infection."

"Wait," I cried. "How contagious is this stuff? I was covered in spores!"

"We've all taken the potion. Mo'at insisted. Which reminds me..."

He raised a wooden bowl of smelly goop up to my mouth.

"Since you're infected, you need additional doses."

It was disgusting, its odor like stinky feet and gasoline, its taste like moldy bread dipped in vinegar. I swallowed a few mouthfuls and gagged.

"God!" I cried. "What's in this!"

"You'd have to ask Mo'at," Henry said. "All I know is that it contains mudepa root."

"Mudepa root!" I shouted. "That's it! That has to be the cure!"

I grabbed him by the collar of his robe, kissing him passionately on the mouth.

He pulled away, looking embarrassed, maybe a little frightened of getting infected, but happy.

He frowned at my covers. "You...spilled your medicine."

"Who cares!" I said. "We've got the cure! We can save humankind!"

I glanced around the room. "Where's Osm- I mean, where's Mo'at?"

Henry shrugged. "I don't know. Haven't seen her since the Na'vi attacked."

"What about that elder person? Shelly?"

He shook his head. "She was killed during the attack."

She. I guessed that would make her a Sha-woman, but I've never heard of such a thing. "I'm sorry," I said.

"Me too."

I looked at the thatched window coverings with alarm. "Are we safe?"

"Not sure," she said. "Per Mo'at's directions, I haven't left your side. I've tried to be as quiet as possible. I scarcely breathed."

We silently listened for noises.

"I think the worst of it is over. I heard screams earlier. I think the Na'vi have set fire to some of our homes, but I'm afraid to go out and look."

I still felt weak and tired.

"Do me a favor, Henry," I said. "If this hut starts burning down, wake me up."

He smiled, brushing my hair to the side. "If that happens, I will personally carry you out."

He kissed my bruised head.

I drank the remainder of the foul smelling sludge and closed my eyes.

I awoke to the weird sensation of a small mouth damping my dress top as it ineffectively attempted to suckle my man boobs through the fabric, a pair of pointy baby tusks jabbing me uncomfortably.

I opened my top and fed the baby before realizing I still had company. The man in the suit and the redhead still hovered above my couch, staring at me expectantly.

I swallowed. "Sorry. I, uh...the baby was hungry."

"We understand," said Sapphire.

"We are elementals. We care nothing for social mores."

"Anyways," I said. "I found the spores, and I found the cure. It's mudepa root. Are we done now?"

"Not quite," Steel said. "Come with me."

Still nursing, I picked up Haman by his second set of armpits, pressing him to my body as I followed the suited figure down an upholstered wood tunnel to the dummy call center that once concealed our base of operations.

Nothing had changed. The same mold ridden bodies lay where they always had. Even Grace, despite all the alien herbs and spices she'd ingested as a youth.

"Grace is still dead," I said. "What was the point of me going back if she's still dead?"

The man didn't reply, he only walked into the cafeteria.

I skirted around fungus exploded corpses, several of which I distinctly remembered moving out of the way, or being somewhere else entirely.

When I asked about this, Steel muttered, "You're not wearing the same clothing, either." He shook his head. "Time is like a river. Unfortunately, your last voyage into the past was equivalent to sticking a straw into the water and blowing bubbles."

I glared at him. "What the hell's that supposed to mean!"

Wordlessly, he marched into the kitchen, leading me to a row of locked cabinet doors, placing his hand on one of the locks.

He pulled on a handle, and the cabinet doors slid aside as one long piece, revealing a long compartment filled to the brim with nothing but stacks and stacks of industrial size gray cans.

Steel grabbed one, slamming it down on the counter.

"Mudepa root. Nine hundred gallons worth. Ever since DOGOS returned to Pandora, Miss Augustine has been continually feeding the substance through the building's water supply."

I frowned. "So it didn't help."

"Oh, I wouldn't say that," he said. "After the chemical was introduced, many employees reported vast improvements in kidney and prostate functioning."

"Wow," I said dryly. "Prostate cures. That sounds really earth shattering."

Steel nodded. "I'm afraid we must go back to the drawing board."

"Damn," I said.

"Indeed. It seems we are definitely not `done.'"

I sighed. "So I gotta go back into Grace's body again."

"Unfortunately yes. Until we can find the answer."

"I found the location of the spores. Shouldn't that be enough?"

"I'm sorry, but the fungus spreads too quickly, and that wasn't the only location. We only managed to contain a small fraction of the vectors."

Groaning, I said, "At least let me eat dinner."

Steel spread his hands, signaling his approval.

I opened cans of refried beans and chili, offering him one. "Hungry?"

"No thank you," he said.

"Suit yourself."

I cooked my meal and ate at a table upstairs, away from the bodies. The two strangers weirded me out by just silently standing there, watching me eat.

I pushed my plate aside. "All right. So what now? Back on the couch?"

Steel nodded, but Sapphire said, "Wait, Steel. Not yet."

"What's the plan?"

"I think we should inspect Miss Augustine's office."

"Ah."

I don't know why I hadn't bothered to inspect her office before. I guess it was due to me being afraid of ghosts, and me not wanting to touch a corpse full of fungus rot.

Steel had no such squeamishness, so he turned her pockets inside out and handed me their contents.

Oddly enough, they strongly resembled the items I'd taken from the drawers at the missionary compound, with the exception of the keys, of course.

Grace's office looked pretty much the same as I remembered. A cramped little office with markerboard and shiny wood paneling.

Sapphire and steel, in the meantime, searched the file cabinets and drawers behind me.

I seated myself in stuffed leather chair, staring at her computer screen. I wondered how much electricity the thing had been sucking all this time, but I guessed it didn't matter.

I wiggled the mouse and found myself staring at a password prompt.

"You were grace," I muttered to myself. "What would she use as a password?"

I tried a few seemingly appropriate things, St. Teresa's, Kamara, Henry, Mudepa, Tamtiwa.

Nothing.

And then it came to me. "Friendship is magic!"

And as I'm typing it in, I hear something banging the inside of the desk.

"She kept it! I can't believe it!"

I unlocked a drawer, and there was the bear, mangy, dusty, beaten up, but there.

Haman giggled and pointed at it.

"Yeah!" I said in my best loving parent voice. "That's a bear!"

I pulled the thing out, setting it on the desk.

"Aargh! Ye scurvy swabs! What be the meaning of this mutiny! No one imprisons Captain Blackbeardedbear and gets away with it!"

The bear picked up a ruler, brandishing it threateningly. "Explain yerself, or I'll run ye through!"

Saddened by this pathetic display, I said, "Power puff."

The bear's shoulders slumped, and he gave me a pleasant smile. "Hello, Grace. How may I be of assistance?"

"Unless you can cure a killer spore, I'm not sure I have any use for you."

The bear froze a moment.

My computer password worked, so I rooted around in her desktop, searching the various folders.

Sapphire and Steel pocketed a few things from various places in the room without comment. I supposed if they were of any use, they would have said something.

The woman had some hybridized alien version of Windows, so it was a little difficult to figure out, despite the Dell monitor and basic American keyboard.

I found her bio monitoring program, but the only tracking chip with active EKG and _everything else data_ was mine. No surprise there.

I thought about deleting the information, but I thought it may one day be useful, so I left it.

"The cure to the spore," the bear said. "Is the extract of mudepa root."

"That is incorrect," I said. "Mudepa root only benefits the functioning of your prostate and kidneys."

The bear froze again. "Insufficient data on cure."

"Why am I not surprised."

Grace didn't have that much else of interest. Employee files, one on me. A budget report showing DOGOS being on shaky financial ground. Her bank book and purse weren't terribly useful either.

She had no family pictures, no photographs of kids.

I found a photograph of a twenty year old black woman I couldn't quite identify, some hand drawn maps of..._something _(without a frame of reference, I couldn't figure out where on earth it was, or if it were even on earth), a crude wooden ring with feathers and bones tied to it...I gave up.

I set the bear on the floor.

"C'mon, Buddy. We've done all we can here."

"Would you like me to sing you a song?"

"Uh, maybe later," I said. "Let's just go upstairs."

The bear froze when we entered the hallway. "I am unfamiliar with these surroundings. Please walk slowly."

"Just yell or something," I said, marching on ahead. "It's not like I'm going anywhere."

For awhile, the bear followed slowly behind, but he stopped moving when he encountered Grace's corpse.

Buddy poked his paw into the fungus, feeling around the shape of her head.

"Grace, I am not detecting life signs. Summoning emergency assistance."

Making loud siren noises, the bear started glowing, flickering with a dazzling alternating red and blue light.

I thought about telling him no, but I welcomed any help I could get, so I left him there, noisily blinking and flashing.

I returned to the couch, and was once again sent on a psychic voyage back in time.

When I awoke, I had breasts.

Fully developed female breasts, jutting out firm and naked from my torso.

I could even see a wedge of hair between my legs.

Another woman? I thought. Who was I this time?

I lay on wiggling grass in a jungle, staring up into a dense canopy of weird looking palm leaves.

Why was a naked?

And then I notice a blue hand sliding across my belly, and an unclothed blue Tamtiwa, adult by the looks of him, presses his muzzle into my neck.

"You kept your promise," he said in a soft purr.

"Promise?" I stammered.

He nodded. "You promised I'd never see you in your underwear again."

Oh God, I thought, my face flushing a deep scarlet. "Henry?"


	91. Chapter 92: Weirdstock

"Yes, it's me, my wild Kahodi," Henry purred.

To my chagrin, as I stared at the male's naked body, I found myself reflecting that he had grown into a very attractive adult.

I sat up quickly, covering my chest with my arm.

"Where's my clothes?" I blurted.

"They're around here somewhere," he grinned. "Why, are the Vixvunio plants making you feel self conscious?"

I reddened. "I don't know."

He scooted up next to me, putting an arm around my shoulders. "Relax. There's no one around for miles. Just enjoy it."

I swallowed. "Did we have sex?"

Henry laughed. "Maybe? Would you like to do it again?"

I came very close to saying "Yes, please." It must have had something to do with breastfeeding for weeks in an abandoned building, alone, or spending too much time in Grace's body. Or both.

I got to my feet. "Where'd you put my clothes?"

He pointed to a tree in the far distance.

Thousands of winged insect creatures with green-purple bodies filled the canopy above. Creatures the size of crows, with the heads of spiders.

I pointed up at them. "What are those?"

"Ocdunyus?" Henry said. "You should know. You must have ate a dozen of them last night! `Bug donuts,' I believe you called them."

"Damn," I said. "I must have been high or something!"

Henry smirked. "I'd say so."

"Lovely," I muttered. "So you got me high and had your way with me."

The expression on his feline face was saying, "You of all people should know better."

"Even before we started lighting up, you wanted me. The moment I showed up at your camp, you nearly suffocated me with that kiss, and when you started lighting up, all these words started pouring out, how even after all these years, you couldn't stop thinking about me."

I reddened. I couldn't figure out if I liked what I was hearing, or if I was disgusted.

"I gotta admit, you took the Tamtiwa foreplay ritual to a whole new level. I don't think I'll ever see a pair of animals chasing each other around a tree again without getting excited."

I stared at him in bafflement and mild disgust. "I pleasured you with animals? Like up your butt or something?"

He burst out in giggles. "Wow! You say the craziest things when you're just waking up!" He was laughing so hard that tears were coming out of his eyes. "Pleasured with animals up my butt! What did you have in mind, a nice big Cudzuxan? Not sure how I'd fit it in..." And he laughed some more. "Humans. Where do you get these ideas?"

"So what did I do?" I said.

"Are we playing the amnesia game?" he teased.

I sighed. "No..."

Grinning, Henry pantomimed a squirrel, making chattering sounds as he hopped around, occasionally making seductive motions, shaking his butt, spreading his legs. "You did that!"

"I did not!" I protested.

He only shrugged. "You make the noises better."

Rolling my eyes, I groaned. "Whatever. Show me the tree."

With a nod, he led me ahead through the multicolored glowing ferns, mischievously stopping at random moments to slap me on the butt or fondle me.

I guess I must have accepted it before this. It might have even been part of our little game, so I didn't slap him, though I felt he deserved it.

I saw a gray jumpsuit hanging off a high branch of a large tree. A million bug eyes glistened from the surrounding foliage, staring at me. I felt exposed and vulnerable.

I stared up at the clothing with a frown. "That's it up there, I take it."

"You don't have to take it," Henry smiled.

"Are you in heat or something?" I asked.

"After your performance a few minutes ago, I think anyone would be in heat."

Cringing, I circled the tree. "So how do I get up?"

And then I see a squat child sized figure in a gray jumpsuit stomping out of the bushes.

Large head, long blonde hair. Adult.

A dwarf.

And not just any dwarf.

I knew the face.

"Victor?" I shrieked.

"Whoa!" he gasped. "_Hello_ Bunny Foofoo!"

My jaw dropped open in shock. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Victor pointed to a clump of spotty orange ferns behind a tree. "Stuffing reefers."

I laughed, staring at him in disbelief.

"What." He frowned. "Did I say something funny, Miss Naturist?"

Grinning, I said. "I just have trouble imagining you being a pothead."

"You surprise the hell out of me too," he said. "I wouldn't even be out here had you not freaking cleaned out my whole supply!"

"I guess that explains the chipmunk routine," I muttered.

I already had an inkling that this was the cause. This only seemed to confirm my earlier suspicions.

I glanced back at Henry.

"He's right. You smoked a considerable amount of Vudsoga leaves. You were eating everything in sight. Even Sebkusni. Sebkusni! Even _I_ wouldn't eat Sebkusni!"

I groaned. "How do I get my clothes?"

Henry picked up a set of metal clamps. Two of them looked like sandals with claws sticking out of them. The other two looked like brass knuckles. As he handed them to me, he pressed his face against my neck, purring, "Can we climb up the same way we went down?"

I had a pretty good idea what he meant.

"Uh...I have a headache. Maybe some other time."

He rubbed my naked back. "All right then. Do you at least want me to spot you?"

Poor choice of words, considering his body was peppered with glowing spots, but I decided the innuendo was unintentional. And even if it wasn't...

"Sure," I said. "I'd hate to fall and hurt myself."

But then I turned to Victor and grinned. "I've been wanting to do this for a long time." And I picked him up.

"Hey!" he cried. "What the hell?"

"Careful," Henry muttered behind me. "He might get a rise out of that."

I frowned. The dwarf _was_ ogling my breasts.

"Babe," he smiled. "You can pick me up anytime."

"Ugh!" shuddering in disgust, I dropped him.

"Told you," Henry laughed.

"Shut up."

"C'mon," said Victor. "You know you like it."

I put on the claws and tried to pretend he wasn't there.

Henry, of course, didn't need the claws, because he was a Tamtiwa.

It took me a few minutes, but I figured out how to scale the tree, and I got up in its massive boughs, shimmying my way over to the jumpsuit.

Unsurprisingly, no underwear was to be found.

I zipped the jumpsuit over my naked body, watching Henry pulling on a bright yellow loincloth. He smiled, descending the trunk. I thought about asking him to stay and spot me again, but I figured it would be easier to climb down than it would be going up.

Suddenly, I see a shiny wiggling shape slithering out of a knothole.

The thing looked like the love child of a weasel and a cobra. An eyeless hairless sort of hooded reptile with dainty little ears, fangs, and a tiny pink nose.

"Back for round two? Seriously?"

"What?" I said.

"Fuck, man! Can't you take a hint?"

"How's it that you keep following me around?" I asked. "How do you even know who I am and what I'm doing? How do you know everything about me?"

"I'm a fucking _nature goddess_, shithead. How the fuck do you think I know!"

"I don't believe in nature goddesses," I said.

"I don't give a shit if you fucking believe or not. But I tell you one thing. When I'm finished with you, your ass is going to be on your knees, begging this here goddess for mercy! I'll make you downright fucking reverent!"

"Kiss my ass," I spat. "You've screwed up my whole world and you want me to respect you? Well I got news for you buddy! The last time I obeyed a man who cussed like a construction worker and attacked me, I called him dad! You are not my dad, so you can eat shit, bozo!"

"You're a persistent little son of a bitch, aren't you?" it growled at me, flaring its cobra cowl. "Either that or you're fucking deaf! Maybe I should give you a little reminder to show you I'm not fucking around!"

Suddenly, all the green bugs took to wing at the same time, swarming through the branches of the tree in a great cloud, beating against me, disorienting me, getting into my eyes, blinding me to my surroundings.

I misstepped, my foot planting on air.

My body plunged forward, and I fell screaming to the ground.

Pain exploded through my body as several bones of my body shattered at once. My eyes were open, but all I could see was red.

As I lay there, whimpering in agony, tears streaming from my eyes, I thought I heard music.

Some creepy old song from the Vietnam era.

_Sing Kookoo sing,_

_Death is coming,_

_Death is coming in..._


	92. Chapter 93: Mr Augustine

When I came to, I found myself lying on a gurney in a prefabricated concrete hut.

It appeared to be a hospital of sorts, about the size of a public restroom, walls loaded with medical supplies.

A big machine stood near the bed, some kind of orange robotic arm, looking like an assembly device from one of those car manufacturing plants.

Four faces were staring down at me with worriment. Henry, Victor, some young female Tamtiwa, and the black woman from the photo in Grace's desk.

I guess they didn't know I was awake, for they were talking around me, not to me.

"I've never seen anyone's bones break like that before," Victor muttered. "I don't see how it will even be possible for her to walk again."

"You sure this will work, Osmifa?" Henry asked.

The female nodded, her braided locks shaking as she did so. "This machine is very old, but you saw the x-ray. Her bones have been set."

Thank God, I thought. The last thing I wanted was to feel _that_. It was bad enough on the way down.

"She _always was_ a bit impulsive," the black girl said.

Who was she? The thought kept bothering me.

"How long is this going to take?" I groaned. "When can I walk again?"

My observers glanced at each other nervously.

Osmifa squeezed my hand. "Honey, you're going to have to rest awhile. Your legs are going to be in casts for a long time. Months. Years, even. The bones have to heal, you understand."

I tried to sit up, but she held me down.

"No baby, not yet. We need to put you in casts before we can let you up."

"I can't," I protested. "I just can't _lay_ here for a month! There's a disease! It's going to kill everyone!"

Osmifa clenched my hand tightly in hers, leaning close. "Jason," she whispered. "You're going to have to find another way. Boss lady's future is going to involve a lot of beds and wheelchairs."

I frowned. "Who's that other girl?"

"Did that fall from the tree knock out your brain?" the person in question asked. "Don't tell me you've forgotten your best friend!"

"Kamara?" she nodded. "Girl, could you do me a favor? The next time you have sex, could you please make it _literally_ safe? Like, _not fucking up in a tree_ safe?"

"It's a promise," I groaned.

Henry chuckled. "She means it, Kamara. Grace never breaks her promises."

I blushed.

Looking a bit disgusted, Kamara said, "Whatever. Just...stay out of trees."

I laughed. "Deal."

"We still need to catch something for supper tonight," Victor muttered. "And I'm not sure Boyfriend is up to the task." He glanced at the girl with the afro. "Kams, can I enlist your help?"

Kamara rolled her eyes. "Fine. As long as you don't try to get into my pants again."

"But that's not any fun at all!" he joked. But when he saw Kamara's serious expression, he groaned, "Fine. Strictly business, ma'am."

And the two stepped out of a round door at the end of the hut.

I glanced up at Osmifa. "So whose body did you take this time?"

She gave me a blank look. "What are you talking about?"

I motioned for her to come closer, and I whispered to her.

"Oh come now. You know my real name. You know Grace's future. Whose body did you possess this time?"

"It was an incomplete transfer," she hissed. "She didn't possess anything. What I told you is all I know."

"Then who are you?"

Henry smiled a little as he put an arm around the female. "This is my sister. She's named in honor of Mo'at. May Etowah keep her spirit."

I sighed in disappointment. "But she's medically skilled, isn't she?"

He nodded. "She learned from the best."

Suddenly I heard someone knocking.

"May I come in?"

A blonde figure in a jumpsuit stepped in. I stared at the man in surprise.

"Steel?"

He did not react, he only glanced at my two friends and said, "May I speak to my daughter in private?"

Henry and Osmifa gawked at him for a moment, then gazed at me, as if trying to see the physical similarities.

I thought Mr. Augustine was dead!" Henry said.

"Rumors of my death are greatly exaggerated," he replied. "So sad about my wife, though."

He looked impatient now. "Do you mind? We have a lot of catching up to do."

The two Tamtwiwa quickly left, muttering to each other in disbelief, both at my father's sudden reappearance in my life, and appearing without being summoned.

"Sorry I botched the job," I said. "I didn't know that the goddess guy was going to do this to me."

"It was beyond your control," Steel said. "I'm afraid we will have to move on."

"So...back to the base again?"

He shook his head. "I want you to relax. Imagine every part of your body being a lead weight. You cannot move a muscle if you tried. Relax. Relax and focus on the sound of my voice..."

My eyes closed, and I entered a dream-like trance in which my body seemed to disassociate with my mind.

I entered a glowing fog, which turned into a rippling red-orange grid of electric light that swelled around me like a blob, like quicksand or an amoeba.

It engulfed me, pressing around me until I could no longer breathe.

I blacked out.

I was blue. That's the first thing I noticed when I regained consciousness.

I was seated on a crude bench made from a felled tree, surrounded by dozens of concrete igloos, one of which I leaned against.

My skin was covered in Day-Glo spots, and I wore only a garish yellow loincloth. In one hand, I clutched a glowing joint of some sort.

A shapely but flat chested blue female lay cradled beneath my other arm. Osmifa, by the looks of it, and the marks on my...everywhere, I had a most vivid recollection of. I was definitely Henry.

"Kinerrish," the female said. "How long are you going to stay with this human?"

It took me awhile to get the cogs working in my brain.

I wasn't Grace.

I was Henry.

Sure, I'm supposed to like myself, but is that really the goal here?

I lamely replied, "Um...awhile?"

"Are you just going to sit around, month after month, waiting for her to heal?"

I felt her tail wrapping around mine. "You know she can't have children with you, don't you?"

"Stranger things have happened," I said, speaking from direct experience.

Her hand caressed my thigh. "With me, you'll always have a sure thing."

"You're my sister," I protested.

"You're adopted," she said. "You haven't told her, have you?"

I swallowed hard. Already I could feel my fin-like genitalia tenting up the fabric of my loincloth. But knowing I was already seeing someone, I couldn't in good conscience accept her offer.

"Osmifa, we're _engaged_," I lied.

She caressed my stomach. "That's a human custom."

"It's also a promise. And friendship."

With an animal growl, she sat up, drawing back. "It's no wonder the Tamtiwa are dying out. Men like you are always looking past the females right in front of them, preferring to sleep with humans, Owilayhi, the _Na'vi._"

She stood up. "I hope your first pregnancy is a miscarriage." And she stomped away.

"Ooh," I mocked as she disappeared.

I looked at my reefer for a moment, then stomped it out.

A moment later, Steel stepped out of the hut, seating himself next to me.

"My daughter is very delicate," he said with a smirk. "You have to be more careful."

"Are we developing a sense of humor?" I asked.

His face got serious. "You're right. Humor doesn't really suit me."

"No, no," I said. "It's a welcome change of pace."

Steel cleared his throat. "You're very worried. You _need to take a walk_, to clear your head."

I thought about saying a wisecrack about using The Force, but I understood exactly what he was getting at. "And in what direction will I be taking this leisurely stroll?"

"Pick any path you want," he said. "This area is uncharted."

"Great," I muttered, standing up.

"Oh, and before you leave," he said, pointing to a concrete hut a few yards away. "I suggest you stop by my daughter's dwelling on the way out. To _further clear your head_. You see, I heard a _disturbing rumor_ that my little girl is carrying around _firearms_. They say she keeps them inside a _locked trunk_ at the _foot of the bed_. I wonder if you can calm some of these worries by taking a look."

I laughed. This Cloak and Dagger performance was overkill. "Sure," I said. "Why not?"

Steel pressed a dull copper key into my hand. "My daughter wanted you to have this. She said it might come in handy."

Nodding, I took it, though I really didn't have a pocket to put it in. I stuffed it in my loincloth.

Instead of marching to the hut, I stepped back into the infirmary, or rather, stepped into the infirmary, because I had no recollection of actually leaving it.

I had to understand my part of this relationship.

Grace lay on her hospital bed, bandaged legs restrained, midsection tied to the bed.

She was awake. A small but shapely young blonde with curly hair.

I smiled and waved to her.

The first thing out of her mouth was, "You really are an inconsiderate asshole."


	93. Chapter 94: PODS

I stood in the infirmary, staring at my ex self in shock.

Me. I was somehow _inconsiderate_.

"Inconsiderate? I, um...whose idea was it to climb up in that tree?"

It was a sincere question, not an accusation, but she took it the wrong way. "Oh sure," she growled. "Blame the victim. You men are all the same."

At this point, I decided I wouldn't be getting the answer anytime soon. "Uh...sorry," I stammered. "What happened to you was really a freak accident. I had no idea there were going to be all those bugs up there. I know it sucks. I...have a _pretty good idea_ what it feels like."

"Give me your hair," she said. "I'll give you a _better_ idea."

I sighed, not really wanting to experience all that pain again. "Must I relive that again?" I groaned.

She stared at me. "That would imply you felt it the first time."

"We made tsailu," I blurted. "It's like a psychic link. We're connected, me and you. When you fell, it felt like _my_ bones were breaking. It was really intense. I wish I could have done something to spare _us both_ from the agony."

For a moment, she actually seemed impressed. I figured she believed the psychic thing, for, instead of challenging me or questioning me, she said, "Why did I pick such a wimp to be my boyfriend?"

"I don't know," I said. "I guess it takes a special guy to put up with your attitude."

I stared at the bed, the strange equipment surrounding it, the concrete walls. "What are we doing here? I mean, in _this place_. This _camp_."

"Living," she sighed. "Living free in the wild like God intended."

"Has it been like this since the mission got attacked?"

"You don't remember," she said skeptically.

"I...think it's all this..._pot_ I've been smoking," I mumbled.

"Bullshit. You claim to read my mind, and you can't remember something simple like that?"

I just shrugged. "I'm sorry." I kept it at that, not wanting to trap myself into experiencing her injury again.

"If you have any brain cells left at all, you'll remember how we lived together for two years before an evac team took me away from you.

"Well, I _came back_. It wasn't easy, but I joined a mining project and went AWOL the first day we arrived. Victor helped me.

"Kamara...well, she never really left. She escaped the rescue squad. Lived off the land ever since. She's the one that showed me this place."

Grace scowled at me. "You of all people should know that."

She paused. "It's that sexy body," she groaned. "I can't stop looking at those legs...if only I could get out of this bed and sit on them..."

She moaned suggestively, beckoning me closer.

I walked forward a few steps, but stopped.

"You're hurt. You need to heal up."

"I don't care," she said with a louder moan. "The more I lay here, the more I think about us being wild forest rodents!"

"You've got broken legs," I said as I stepped closer. "Broken everything. You're not going to walk again if I try getting in bed with you."

"Then don't get in bed," she said. "Just use your hair."

I frowned. "Seriously."

"Yes, seriously."

And then, despite the casts on her arms, she yanks my hair braid close, shoving its ends into her nose.

It was a trick.

She didn't actually want to have `virtual sex.' The moment I had my..._thing_ in her brain, I was reliving her painful fall from the tree.

Despite having experienced it once already, I collapsed on the floor with a loud scream.

"I know bullshit when I hear it," she muttered.

"How?" I cried.

I had an alien hair braid. She had none. I had to ask.

"You've taught me everything I know," she said unpleasantly.

"Honey," I groaned as I got to my feet. "I'm..._going to step out for a smoke_. Be back in a few."

"Why not smoke in here?" she smiled. "I love alien pot."

"Uh, I'm also going to be taking a walk," I covered. "Sorry. I'll try to make it quick."

She sighed. "Don't be too long. You're the only one I've got left."

I smiled at her, moved with pity.

"I'll try. Maybe when I get back, I can even give you some `cyber' or something."

She chuckled. "`_Cyber_.' I always said you were a blue Oreo."

"Enjoy yourself in there?" Steel asked me as I stepped back outside.

"Somehow I remember her being...nicer," I said.

He smirked knowingly.

I passed him by, marching down to that hut he had indicated earlier.

I don't know what they had been using for a campground, exactly. I guessed maybe a quarry, for the ground was mostly a flat piece of rock scattered with patches of grass, surrounded by a rough semicircle of boulders and rubble. The jungle we'd..._romped through_ lay to the south.

Grace's hut was just a generic concrete dome with a cracked, sloppily patched roof, but she had dressed it up.

She bent sticks and tied together branches and leaves and plant matter into various abstract shapes, she painted alien symbols on the concrete with native pigments. She even made little totem poles.

On one side of the door, I saw a heart with symbols (Tamtiwa, I guessed) inside. The opposite side was more clear: "Grace plus Henry, forever."

Knowing what I did about the future, I was certain the "forever" was understated, but I wondered if my presence here could turn the tide, maybe keep the two together.

Could that solve some of my future problems?

I supposed solving the problem of her unfulfilling sex life _could_ make her less of a bitch, but would that stop the spores? I kind of doubted it.

It seemed her dwelling once had an airlock, but the doors had been taken off, replaced by a simple curtain, which was now drawn aside.

One entire wall had been plastered with images of my likeness, sketches and watercolors made on a sort of crudely manufactured paper.

I saw two cots with sleeping bags, both belonging to females, judging by the items scattered around the army colored sleeping bags.

I wasn't sure what Kamara thought about the valentines hearts on the exterior. Maybe those were recent additions, and she intended to move into another hut. I didn't know.

I found the footlocker where Steel said it would be. The key worked, so I had it open, looking inside.

Jumpsuits, toiletries, some kind of fancy radio, a few other supplies constructed by rather primitive means, and vials of plant matter. Hand drawn maps. A sort of alien lei. A gun and bullets.

"If you want the weed, it's over in Victor's hut," a voice said.

I stood up, whipping the pistol in the direction of the sound.

Kamara. She stood in the doorway, hands raised. Without oxygen equipment, I noticed.

"Whoa," she said as she stared at the gun. "Watch where you're pointing that."

"Sorry," I blurted. "You surprised me, that's all."

"Did Grace say you could dig around in her stuff?"

"She lets me do _everything else_ in her stuff, so why not?"

Kamara rolled her eyes.

"She gave me the key."

"I've never seen you use a gun. Do you even know how to use that?"

"I'll...figure it out," I said, checking the chamber.

Empty. I loaded the bullets in.

Suddenly Kamara looked upset. "Wait. What are you going to do with that?"

"I'm going to take a walk in the jungle."

"The jungle," she repeated with an air of skepticism.

"What," I said. "You think I view my girlfriend as some kind of sick horse that you put out of its misery with a bullet?"

She shook her head. "Whare are you going?"

"I'm not sure you'd understand."

"Try me."

Sighing, I said, "Look. There's a deadly mold spore on this planet that's going to wipe out all of humankind, and I need to find it and destroy it before it's too late."

"Tebvarlak!" Kamara said, wide eyed. "You're talking about Tebvarlak! Grace was telling me about it. The Na'vi..."

I nodded. "By the way, how did you survive that attack on the mission?"

Then, to avoid stupid questions, I said, "Remind me again?"

She looked at me like I was crazy. "_You saved my life_. Nothing major. _Just a little black girl_ _of no consequence._"

"_How_ did I save your life?" I said. "And how'd I do that _and_ save Grace's life?"

She chuckled and shook her head. "Are we playing the amnesia game?"

The drug excuse hadn't worked on Grace, but I thought I'd try it again anyway. It _really was_ the most compelling story I could come up with.

"I don't know. Maybe it's all the pot I've been smoking. Enlighten me."

From the expression on her face, I could see this explanation was more than adequate.

She gave me a tight smile. "I _knew_ there were side effects."

Letting out a deep sigh, she said, "Well, you know, before the attack, Grace was running away from the mission, _to see you_, I suppose, and I was taking off my air mask to distract mother, to buy her some more time. The Na'vi attacked after mom took me back into the hut to be treated.

"They killed her when she came back out, leaving me all alone to face those _things_.

"The place was on fire, and those pigs were running through the village, killing people, raping people, kidnapping people...I tried to hide, but the fires destroyed something on the oxygen system, so I couldn't stay there anymore.

"When I ran out, one of the pigs got me, ripping my clothes, dragging me into the jungle.

"I thought I was history." She visibly shuddered. "They had tools, and were trying to..._do things_ to my privates. _But you killed them_."

"And fitted you with a Bazrok, I'm assuming."

"Actually, you took me to your uncle Nop because you found Buddy and Nop took care of the Bazrok situation. But still, you saved my life."

And then she kissed me on the mouth.

I quickly pulled away. "Whoa. I'm already spoken for. I know I'm a sexy stud, but I can't be giving my body to three women."

"Why?" she grinned. "You're a Tamtiwa."

She paused. "Three?"

"My sister?" I said.

She looked simultaneously disgusted and intrigued.

"Look," I said. "I'm not that kind of Tamtiwa."

She grabbed my tail, running her hand down its length. "So you're just going to wait, what, months, years, just to get some action again?"

I swallowed hard. "Uh, yeah. That's exactly what I'm going to do."

I may have slept with two aliens outside of wedlock, and technically my boss, via Henry, but I still believed in committed relationships with a push towards marriage. `Til death do us part, etcetera.

Also, more pragmatically, having sex with her wasn't going to solve any of the problems I'd been sent back in time to fix.

Kamara frowned. "You're a good Tamtiwa. _Too_ good."

She shook her head. "Anyway, would you like some help looking for this...fungus?"

"Sure," I said, mostly because she understood the concept enough to volunteer, and I trusted her.

Of course, to be perfectly honest, I guess she _was_ kind of cute.

"So," I said as we walked out together. "You've been here the whole time."

"It's not as dramatic as all that," she said. "I didn't go Indian. In fact, I got sick and a mining colony took me in. I actually stayed with them a few years before the Na'vi attacked. I still don't know everything about this place."

I glanced around the quarry. "Is this the colony?"

She laughed. "No. It's on the other side of the planet."

"Have you..._seen_ any of the mushrooms I'm talking about? Kinda look like man eating plants?"

She paused and thought about it a minute.

"No, but I got a few ideas..."

She stepped back in the hut, bringing out the maps, which she unrolled on the painted concrete.

She pointed to a blob situated next to a place that looked like our camp.

"We've seen Na'vi carrying all kinds of unusual items to this location. Plants, weapons, machinery. Victor says he even saw a _spaceship_ landing there one night."

"Sounds interesting," I said. "Let's go there."

She nodded, but then said, "We should bring Victor."

"Who's going to watch Grace?"

"_Her dad_ is there, isn't he?"

I shook my head. "He just left."

"Where'd he go? I mean, _where_?"

"Dunno. To visit the Tamtiwa, I think."

She wasn't _too_ overly depressed about the situation. "You're right," she said in a sing-song voice. "Let's go gather some _intel_."

By the tone of her voice, I suspected she would start her intel gathering under my loincloth.

The site was over the mountain of rubble and through a stretch of thickly tangled jungle foliage.

The rocks around the camp were bumpy but worn smooth and overgrown with grasses, so long had the place been abandoned.

Once we crossed the top of these rocks, we marched through the native flora, and I began to wish for pants. I don't know how any primitive society deals with such things. My guess is that they have to keep setting fires to shoo the bugs away, smoking them out. Maybe after awhile they got immune to the bloodsuckers and poison ivy, or they regularly bathe in primitive insecticide from various plant matter. After walking a few yards, my crotch area was inflamed.

Kamara unzipped the front of her jumpsuit a little, and when I said nothing, she unzipped a little more.

When I still said nothing, she said, "What would you do if I stripped naked? Right here?"

I frowned. "I might stare at you for a minute, but then tell you I had dibs on the calamine lotion."

She stroked my back. "So...you'd _stare at me. For a minute._"

"Because you'd be insane," I blurted. "The moment I stepped into this stuff, I regretted my state of undress. I'm probably going to be scratching for days. Take it off if you want, but you'll get a rash."

"That didn't stop you and Gracie last night."

I rolled my eyes. "And she's thanking me right now as she's trying to scratch herself under all that plaster."

"I came prepared." She pulled a metal tube out of her pocket. "Anti itch cream. Tamtiwa special. Want me to lather you up?"

I cringed. "That's really okay," I said. "But if you wouldn't mind, could I borrow some?"

She handed it over and I treated myself with the stuff. It _did_ improve things somewhat.

"You're no fun," she said, zipping herself up.

"That's what they said in my high school yearbook," I joked.

"Tamtiwa High School. _That _I'd like to see!"

I grinned. "Our school mascot is the Fighting Ikran."

"God, you are _such_ a dork."

After about twenty minutes of walking in silence, we arrived at a clearing.

Strange place.

It looked like something you'd see around a small town's sewage treatment facility. Lots of mystifying pipes, steel utility boxes and low concrete structures of unclear purpose, one side featuring a pillbox with a locked security door. This whole collection of objects had been built in a ring around something resembling an underground garage.

Sensing movement, Kamara gasped and pulled me back into the bushes just seconds before a group of pig creatures came plodding our way with their backs loaded with heavy chests of varying kinds.

It reminded me of all those Tarzan stories about European guys in khakis with their trains of African slaves, except they were carrying crates, aluminum containers, and cardboard boxes.

The brutes were just dropping their items on a line at one edge of the clearing, standing around impatiently for something to happen.

"What are they doing?" I whispered.

"I don't know. Most the time they take the shit down that hole."

All of a sudden, I hear this weird tearing sound, an an entire copse of trees just flattened itself on its own accord.

I blinked, and I was staring at a PODS Storage facility.

"What the fuck?" I cried. "How many damn companies can do that? Hundreds? Thousands?"

Kamara stared at me in disbelief. "You've seen others do that before?"

I shrugged.

Not wanting to cause a space/time paradox, I said, "I've...heard _stories_. A _bank_, they said."

"What else have you heard?"

"Dunno," I muttered awkwardly.

She looked at me with suspicion for a minute, then turned her attention to PODS.

I saw a glass door swing open, and a burly looking bald man in a red polo marched out.

Beard, mustache, glasses.

I did a double take.

"That's my boss!" I whispered.

Dennis. He worked _there_.

What the hell was going on?

"What?" Kamara said, giving me that suspicious stare again.

It really wasn't the time to give her the full story, so I said, "Nothing. I just said _the boss is coming out_."

She gave me a funny look, then turned away.

Dennis opened one of those overhead garage door things, and out stepped a green six limbed figure, clad in a loincloth and a specially designed four sleeved red polo.

I could barely believe what I was seeing.

Even from the distance, I knew it was _her_.

Her facial mannerisms.

_The way she moved_.

The _skin patterning_.

_Those legs._

I nearly fainted.

"Ibira," I whispered.

"What's the story this time?"

"That's my girlfriend!" I cried.

"What! What about Grace! What about me? I thought you were a one woman man!"

"Uh," I stammered, not sure what to say.

"Never mind," she groaned. "You're probably just high and horny. I really don't know the-"

Noticing something was off, I shushed her.

A couple pigs snorted, pointing their claws at me as they spoke to the two red shirts.

"We should go," Kamara hissed.

"No," I said. "Wait."

"They know we're here. You want to go in there with guns blazing or you want to get out while the getting's good?"

Setting the gun down, I said, "It's okay. I'm going to talk to her."

I slowly stood up, waving to her.

My dead girlfriend raced up to me with great speed, drawing a pistol.

"I'm going to give you to the count of ten to vacate the premises."

She pointed her gun at Kamara. "Up! Hands where I can see them!"

My companion obeyed.

"Ibira!" I shouted. "You're alive!"

Her eyes narrowed. "How do you know my name?"

"How could I not?" I breathed. "The first love of my life, the mother of my child...you're just as gorgeous as ever!"

She burst out laughing. "Me? A mother _to your child_? You've been smoking jungle pot."

"You're still sexy," I said. "That uniform really looks good on you."

Ibira frowned. "I have to admit, Tamtiwa. You've got some brass balls under that loincloth."

"And you've got some scary crotch stabbing fangs under yours."

Her skin appeared to change a different color. "You seem...oddly well versed in Qozisa anatomy, Tamtiwa."

"Hey," I said. "_You study what you love_." I said it in such a way that she could tell I meant _her_ specifically. "I'd really like to _study_ more. What say you and me go somewhere and get coffee?"

She raised her pistol, cracking me over the head.

"I don't drink coffee."

As I was falling to the ground unconscious, I could hear her delivering the parting shot.

"Go back to school."


	94. Chapter 95: Mr Jennings

I awoke to a spray of cold water on my chest and face.

I opened my eyes and found myself inside a red metal cube packed with boxes, crates and storage bins.

Ibira sat on a steel crate in front of me, armed with a super soaker. Her pistol was holstered on a belt around her waist.

I was on my knees, my arms stretched apart, hands cuffed to what appeared to be hooks for hanging bicycles.

When she saw my eyes open, she set the toy down, marching up to me.

"All right, Tamtiwa. Start talking. Why were you trespassing on private property?"

"I'm trying to stop a deadly fungus from destroying humankind."

She crossed her arms and put her hands on her hips at the same time. I thought it was so cute that I had to fight down a smile.

"And what makes you think that this so-called `_fungus_' is here?"

I shook my head. "I'm not. But the Na'vi have plans to distribute the fungus. Their presence here is inherently suspicious."

"I could say the same thing about yours."

With rapid speed, she leapt upon me, one of her hands threateningly holding a knife to my throat while the other two attempted to pull my braids out of my scalp. I howled in pain.

"How do you know my name!" she shouted, pulling harder. "How!"

"You'd never believe me!" I gasped.

She nicked the skin of my throat. "Try me."

I sighed, uncertain about what to say. Telling her the actual truth could cause a temporal paradox, but I already screwed that up. Plus, I couldn't think of a lie convincing enough to avoid a slit throat.

Okay, so I also thought maybe if I told her the truth, she'd be alive when I woke up from all of this.

"My real name is Jason Finch," I said. "I'm human. I was psychically sent back into this body to stop a deadly fungal virus from killing everyone on earth."

Her hand tightened around my throat, the knife digging deeper. "How. Do. You. Know. Me."

"A few years from now," I stammered. "You're going to work for a company called DOGOS, where I also will be working. I will fall in love with you, and, for reasons unknown, you reciprocate. You, uh, even reciprocate _without your clothes or your harness_."

She slapped me without letting go of my throat.

"You asked," I stammered.

Ibira shook her head, muttering, "Brass balls."

"Anyway," I quickly blurted. "That's why I'm so familiar with your vagina."

"It's a noafwi," she growled, but she seemed to be at a complete loss for words to say after that.

I felt her grip relaxing on my throat. "What else happens in this elaborate delusion of yours?"

I swallowed. "I lose you. My...uh...human _chromosomes_...kill you. But we still have a child together. And because you stabbed me with your _things_, I can nurse him. And more importantly, you make me immune to the disease."

She frowned, staring at me in silence for a moment. "So. What. You want me to sleep with everyone on earth? Milk my noafwi like a cow so you can cure everybody?"

"What? No!" I cried. But then I thought about it for a moment. "What?"

"In your strange delusional universe, my noafwi, _the nibrija from it_, is the only thing that can cure..._whatever_. Ergo, you wish to access my noafwi to procure roughly a billion gallons of nibrija."

"Wait," I said.

After thinking about it for a minute, I declared, "You're a genius!"

Her skin turned orange in embarrassment. "Oh no. No no. I'm not going to be your cow! Forget it! Find another Qozisa!"

My mouth dropped open in surprise. "That's it! If I could somehow set up a `sperm bank' on your planet, maybe exchanging the stuff for trade goods or something..."

She snorted. "It's not sperm, it's nibrija. I somehow doubt you have enough of the right sort of trade goods to convince them to donate."

I sighed. "Maybe not. But don't you see? We could still procure a couple samples from you, then find someone skilled in medicine to synthesize a billion gallons of the stuff!"

"Providing I volunteer," she said.

"Yeah," I said. "And providing I find a scientist that can actually do it."

Since that sounded bad, I added, "I mean, _synthesize the compound_."

"I understood what you meant," she said with a slight smirk.

She drew back, sheathing her weapon as she continued to stare at me.

"So...you believe me?"

She responded by pressing her mouth against my muzzle, parting my lips as her long frog's tongue wiggled to the back of my throat. I found my body's current lack of a uvula too be of a distinct advantage to this particular situation. Her tusks tickled the sides of my cheeks.

"Let's say, hypothetically, that I did," she purred as she caressed my chest with two hands, her other two sliding up my thighs. "Would this be considered cheating?"

"Well," I said nervously. "As enjoyable as it might be, I'm in the body of my boss's boyfriend. I don't want to mess things up. Or..._mess up time._"

"If what you said is true," she said, rubbing herself against my body. "Then you've already created a paradox by telling me all this."

The hands on my legs slid higher, beneath my loincloth, massaging my hips. Her two other ones brushed my hair.

"And what if I never _sleep with_ this other you?" She kissed me again. "Maybe I'll be _alive_ in the future, and I'll be able to solve the whole problem without you."

She rubbed her crotch against my loincloth as she explored my throat. "Or maybe _with_ you, as long as we're not so _careless._"

A door on the side of the room clanked open. The knife was back at my throat in a blink of an eye.

I glanced up at the bald figure with annoyance, maybe a little fear.

"How's the interrogation going?" he asked.

Ibira backed away, sheathing her blade. "Good. He knows nothing and he's certifiably insane."

And then she punched me in the stomach.

"What do you want me to do with him?"

Dennis frowned at me, crossing his arms. "Take him to Mr. Jennings. I'm sure he'll know what to do with him."

Ibira gave me a little smile, winking mischievously, but then she turned away, resuming her macho persona. "What about the girl? Got anything out of her?"

Dennis shook his head. "Negative. Somehow she picked the lock on the handcuffs."

"Don't hurt her!" I cried, mostly for Ibira's benefit. 'She doesn't know anything!"

Ibira shot me a look that could have been jealousy, annoyance, or anger. It was hard to tell due to her militaristic facade. For all I knew, I could have just given Kamara a death sentence...unless she had already gotten away.

The knife returned to my throat. "We _know_ you're crazy, but why is _she_ here?"

"She knows the jungle. She's just a guide. I just brought her along to show me to the bunker."

Dennis's eyes bored down into mine. It was scary to see what he looked like when I wasn't trying to please him, but also relieving in a strange sort of way. "And pick the lock on the door?" he asked.

"Maybe," I said. "Look. I'm trying to stop a killer disease from wiping out humanity, and I think the answer is in that bunker."

"He thinks he's a time traveler," Ibira said.

Dennis laughed. "_Twelve Monkeys._"

My girlfriend looked puzzled. "What?"

"It's a movie. Time traveler goes back to stop a virus. Doesn't end too well for him either."

He leaned over me, slowly enunciating each word as he said, "_We live in the real world._"

And then he kicked me in the stomach.

"Take him away," he growled.

With a self assured smile, Ibira unhooked me from the wall, fastening my hands behind my back.

As she did this, I could hear her mutter in low tones, "Once we're in the bunker, pretend to be trying to run out. I'll make a distraction."

I gave her a very slight nod, pretending like she didn't say anything.

She forced me to my feet, backhanded me across the face, then, with a sly motion of a third hand, slapped me on the butt as her other hands shoved me forward by gunpoint.

The footsteps behind me told me that Dennis had decided to come along to supervise the operation. It seemed he wasn't just born into the role, he bullied himself into it.

The corridor outside was not much to look at. A red-orange hallway consisting of garage doors and little metal doors divided by stretches of concrete and a few sections of corrugated steel.

We marched to the end, and I was shoved through a fire exit.

Once again outside, I staggered ahead, staring into the mouth of the underground garage.

From the side, it still looked like a sewage processing center, minus the standard pools of smelly liquid. Mostly it was just pipes and flat blocks of concrete surrounded by dirt.

The inclined `drive', if you could call it that, led down into a darkened recess, and an intimidating metal garage door.

Framed by gray pillars, the door had a strange icon painted on it, a snake head framed by flower petals. Army lettering beneath it said, "DAMBALLAH."

I shouldn't have recognized the symbol, but it actually sparked associations in my mind.

Mrs. Gorwemax from planet Kiwdilu, whose order I botched during one of my calls. She had the symbol on a plaque on her wall.

Vuxeye from Gamma 9, who looked like a cactus, and refused to pay his bill. The logo was on a flag in his `apartment' or whatever they had on Gamma 9.

I also vaguely recalled someone in the office wearing it on a t-shirt.

As we approached the door, it opened on its own, the rusty machinery squealing as it rolled up on its tracks.

Beyond, I saw a long corridor lined with boxes and crates of a surprisingly mundane variety: Dell computer equipment, Hormel Chili, cases of Coke, Sprite, hot sauce, toilet paper and Pepto Bismol. Cartons of cigarettes, boxes of laundry detergent and Hamburger Helper. I felt like we were in the back hallway at a Sam's Club.

"What's all this?" I asked. "Supplies for an army?"

Dennis didn't answer.

With two arms, Ibira twisted my arm around until I cried out in pain, her third hand slyly caressing my butt. Needless to say, I was deeply confused, and a little turned on.

"You talk when we tell you to talk!" she yelled, but her third hand was playing with the back of my loincloth. "You do not ask questions! You answer them!"

She twisted my arm further, but her fourth hand was squeezing the base of my tail in a rather sexual way.

I staggered ahead, entering a warehouse lined with more boxes and crates. Someone was overstocked on Lemon Cascade. The other boxes were either turned around backwards or unlabeled, so I didn't know what was inside them. Seeing the word Malaysia on one of them, I hazarded a guess and decided it contained electronic parts.

I did a double take when I saw what lay along the back wall.

In between two towering walls of supply boxes, there stood a throne, occupied by a little man with an afro.

"Frank," Dennis said. "We caught this guy snooping around the perimeter. What do you want us to do with him?"

"Would you like me to kill him?" Ibira asked.

The man chuckled. "Don't trouble yourself, sugar. I like watching alien S&M, but this stupid son of a bitch is stepping on my last nerve. Kick him over to me."

Ibira obliged him by knocking me on my face.

When I got back up, the man rose to his feet, clapping his hands.

Locking eyes with me, he barked, "Congratulations, asshole! You've just stumbled into my _secret fucking base that you weren't supposed to fucking find_!" He grinned at the ceiling. "Vanna, tell them what they've won!"

Suddenly a glowing Man Of War the size of a small automobile dropped from the ceiling, a huge translucent pulsating mass of wiggling jellyfish tentacles.

I'd seen something like this before. Whatever that thing was for, it wasn't there to decorate an aquarium.

"Get down!" I yelled, dropping to the floor.

A second later, machine gun fire erupted from a series of mouths on the creature's body.

The midget gleefully waved his middle finger at me, then disappeared in a puff of smoke.


	95. Chapter 96: Grenades and Pop Tarts

Not wanting to get shot, I dashed behind a tower of bulk commodities, retreating into a concrete hallway. Ibira joined me under a waterfall of baked beans.

"I thought we were business partners!" she yelled at the ceiling. "We brought you a _prisoner_! We're not your enemy!"

An explosive shower of saltine cracker dust answered her.

"He must think that if he has PODS, he doesn't need us!" Dennis yelled from the other end of the room.

"Why are you working for this guy to begin with?" I asked my alien girlfriend.

She didn't answer.

The great jellyfish drifted around the stack of boxes, pointing its gun ports in our direction.

We retreated down another grocery store hallway in attempts to escape, but as we did, I noticed Dennis stepping behind the creature, raising a shiny little silver gun.

It looked like a toy, like something you'd get out of a cereal box, but when he pulled the trigger, the Man of War exploded, spraying its slimy guts and machine parts all over the walls, boxes and ceiling.

"Great shooting, asshole!" a booming voice shouted. "Let's see you gun your way through _this_!"

Ahead of us, a pair of double doors banged open, and out came a hundred angry looking Tamtiwa, all drawing knives.

"Shit!" I cried, running the opposite direction, but when I passed the partly demolished tower of cardboard, I saw another hundred coming around the corner of the tower opposite, _and_ an additional pig faced Na'vi from the main entrance.

"Get down!" Dennis shouted to us...well, maybe just to Ibira.

We ducked and a large explosion destroyed maybe a dozen of them.

I looked at Ibira pleadingly. "Can you uncuff me?"

"No," she said. "There's a conflict of interest."

Dennis fired into the crowd coming from the entrance, sending down a rain of canned goods. He turned his weapon on the mob charging around the corner, and the air filled with screams, noisy shattering and metallic clanging sounds.

When he pointed it ahead of us again, I only heard a click.

"Shit," he muttered, pulling out a pistol. The man fired at a couple Tamtiwa that got too close, knocking them to the floor.

"What conflict of interest?" I cried. "I don't even know these guys! The only thing I'm interested in is getting us the hell out of here!"

Ibira gave me a sideways predatory glance that could mean anything.

"Look. I'm just one guy. If I try anything, you can kill me. Just give me a chance to die fighting by your side, instead of cuffed like some pathetic criminal."

Ibira blushed. "If we get through this alive, I'm going to make you sorry for what you just said." She was smiling as she said this.

Now _I_ was blushing. "I'm regretting it already," I said with a grin. "Now can you please uncuff me before we both get killed?"

She squatted behind me, capping two Tamtiwa in the head with her pistol as her two other hands unlocked my cuffs.

Once I was free, she snatched a knife off a corpse, throwing it to me as she shot two more.

Her gun clicked empty after she felled an additional three.

Ibira grabbed three knives with her other hands, stabbing anyone that came close. With all those blades clutched like that, she looked like the goddess Shiva with a couple limbs missing, and she played the part of Death passably.

When one of the Tamtiwa tried to kill me, I had no choice to stab her in the neck. I really don't like to kill, and usually didn't do it for religious reasons, but the female was about to hack me to bits, so my options were limited.

Dennis ran between us, firing at several blue felines. Ibira reached under her uniform with one hand, tossing him a metal cylinder and a grenade. The cylinder appeared to be ammo, for the moment he received it, he was loading it into the little gun.

He fired two bursts ahead of us, slaughtering about thirty of our blue assailants and knocking down a vast mound of soup cans, Miller Genuine Draft, Lysol, baby powder and sex lubricant. A wall of canned goods crushed two Tamtiwa to death, but the others were hit by less damaging objects.

Yeah, I don't know about the lube, either, but it was there, along with the boxes of Bisquik, Ro-Tel tomatoes and Velveeta cheese.

I considered simply using this mountain as a barricade against the enemy swarm ahead, and going back, but they were throwing spears and firing arrows, so we returned fire by lobbing glass jars of pickles, molasses, Van Camp's pork and beans, etcetera, at anyone standing within range, and stabbing the first blue..._anything_ that climbed over to meet us.

Ibira improved on the process by lighting flammables like Wesson oil, Crisco and Vaseline with a cigarette lighter and throwing it, hurling Pop Tarts and toilet paper on the blaze to keep it going.

I experimented with creating an incendiary Pop Tart missile with Wesson oil and nearly burned my hand off.

Several cans of beans exploded from the heat, causing Tamtiwa minor injuries. Dennis fired another shot into the mob, and we fought our way through mounds of corpses and (presumably) damaged computer equipment. The hard drives, being especially heavy, knocked a few attackers unconscious, which Ibira rendered doubly unconscious with a few stabs.

The onslaught of Tamtiwa abruptly stopped as we reached a large concrete room with a set of steel double doors at the opposite end.

When we stepped over the corpses and neared the center of the room, we thought we were in the clear, but then a pair of glowing jellyfish the size of coffee tables burst out of circular trapdoors on either side of the exit.

Dennis pointed the weapon at one, but it just clicked.

"I'm empty."

Ibira shrugged two sets of shoulders. "So am I."

The jellyfish things opened fire.

"What _do_ you got?" Dennis asked.

"I have a grenade," she said.

"_A_ grenade?"

She handed him a little silver ball with a pin and handle. "Make it count."

Dennis turned the object over in his hands. "I used to pitch for my son's little league team."

"You're _not_ making me feel confident," Ibira said.

Without a word, Dennis pulled the pin, lobbing it at the jellyfish to the right. The creature exploded in a mass of goo covered meat and circuitry, with so much force that bits of the surrounding wall cracked and fell off.

Infuriated by the attack, the second jellyfish sped to our location, spraying shrapnel out of every one of its orifices.

While this happened, Ibira reached under her shirt, clicking or unlatching something with her hands.

To my utter shock, the projectiles popped harmlessly in the air, ricocheting off into the walls, ceiling and, unfortunately, Dennis's leg.

"I'm fine!" he shouted. "Get this thing grounded!"

I stared at Ibira with dismay. "You had a forcefield the whole time?"

"I only use it as a last resort. If the shield ever makes contact with a laser weapon, it would result in an explosion equal to ten atomic bombs."

"Why didn't you use it earlier?" I said. "They only had _knives_!"

She just shook her head. "It wasn't fully charged."

"Wait. If it wasn't fully charged, wouldn't the explosion be much weaker, and therefore safer?"

"Shut up," she growled, hurling a Wesson Molotov at the creature.

The beast didn't go down easy, but after a few more firebombs, aluminum cans, and jars of pickles, it lost its ability to fly, and we all kicked and stabbed it to death.

Ibira glanced over her shoulder. "We're being followed. Let's keep going."

We tried the door, but it was locked.

"Damn," I said. "We're history."

"Not quite," said Dennis, pulling out a badge.

"That's not going to work," Ibira said. "We're obviously off the security roster."

Dennis slapped the badge into a little black box. "I've got the temporary pass."

He limped over to a card reader, stuck the badge and device into the slot and pushed a button. The machine exploded in a shower of sparks, and the doors clanged wide open.

We stepped through the opening and found ourselves in a factory. All around us, above, to the sides, and below the floor grating, we could see rows of glass tanks, full of pink liquid, like amniotic fluid, with a human child floating in each one, some with the beginnings of tails and cat's ears, some with snouts, others with wings. Each of these little subjects had machinery affixed to them.

One whole section was devoted to drilling into the childrens' skulls with various wires and mechanical attachments. The next busily inserted things into their chests and stomachs, pumped in fluids, adjusted wires leading from their brains.

This machinery and equipment extended for several yards, the path ahead obscured by steam and moving robotic arms.

One such cloud passed before us, and through the fog, we could see a small child sized figure approaching.

At first, it looked like a young Tamtiwa, unclothed and helpless, but when we stepped forward, it clenched its fists and a scimitar-like blade came out of the back of each of its wrists.

It grinned, and its teeth were like shark teeth.

Uh-oh, I thought.


	96. Chapter 97: Catwalk

I attempted to step around the little blue creep, but the moment I got near, it slashed me across the stomach.

A surface wound, kind of . No wounded vital organs, at least, not any I was aware of.

I raised my knife to retaliate, but the small creature was faster, swinging its scimitar at my kneecaps, to cripple me.

A green hand blocked the blade at the last second.

"I'm beginning to think you _really are_ human," my girlfriend muttered to me. And then she blocked our attacker's other blade.

The blue thing attempted to swing with its other arm again, but Ibira caught the strike, then raised a blade with a third hand, attempting to stab the thing in the head.

The creature responded by trying to bite her hand off.

What followed was a confusing blur of limbs, Ibira blocking blades, dodging teeth, coming in with a third knife whenever she could, but being thwarted again and again.

At last she got frustrated and punched the biting head in the face, stabbing the beast in the throat while her other two limbs blocked.

Dennis, seeing no immediate danger, ripped parts of his shirt away, tying the rags around his leg like a tourniquet.

That's when we noticed movement from above.

They looked like flying stingrays with leech faces, disturbingly humanoid.

As one shrieked and dove at us, I saw it spreading its hands, causing knives to erupt from its fingers.

"What now?" Dennis asked.

Ibira's head snapped left and right. "We run."

We rushed ahead through the fog as quick as we could, keeping our heads low as the things swooped down on us.

Dennis, with his wounded leg, was slowing us down. As much as I wanted to leave the jerk for dead, I couldn't. Like him or not, he had our back, and that meant something.

So we tried our best to carry him, pull him along.

Honestly, Ibira helped him more than I could, with the extra limbs and all, but I _did_ shoulder his weight from time to time.

Unfortunately, just as we were nearing the end of this factory, toward the glass and steel entrance of some kind of office or laboratory, Dennis stopped in his tracks.

"Go without me," he gasped. "I've lost too much blood."

Ibira frowned. "I'm not leaving you behind. I'll drag you if I have to."

Then the beasts were upon us, one of them slashing Ibira's arm with its claws.

"You were saying?" Dennis groaned.

"Yo!" a voice yelled from behind us. "Everybody on the floor! Now!"

We looked up the catwalk and saw a bald figure with wild eyes and a no-nonsense expression on his bony face.

Pierced ear. Scrubby little mustache. Oddly shaped head. He wore khakis and a Tupac t-shirt.

Snake. My coworker.

In his tattooed muscular arms, he held a large cannon of some kind, possibly a grenade launcher, which he waved at us warningly. He had an expression on his face that seemed to be astonished dismay at our supreme lack of intelligence.

"What, are you guys thick?" he shouted like a football nut watching his favorite team kick a ball into the wrong goal. Waving frantically, he yelled, "Get those multicolored asses _down_!"

A second later, a green hand slammed my face into the platform.

Glancing back, I saw the man pull the trigger, then...nothing.

I raised my head up a little to call back, "Is this some kind of j-"

It was like dynamite had exploded above our heads. The platform trembled like an earthquake hit it. Burning objects, electronics, and bits of gristle fell down upon us like rain.

And then, something broke off the catwalk, and we were dropping at a forty five degree angle, looking down at some sort of chemical based electrical power system. A gigantic tank the size of the factory, filled with a greenish soup, and metal posts.

Judging by the lightning bolts that kept running through there, the stuff could kill.

Unfortunately for me, the railing tube came loose, and I suddenly felt like the loser on trombone tug of war. Ibira grabbed me just seconds before I fell into the...whatever.

We dangled that way for a minute, Dennis and I staring at each other in horror as Ibira struggled to hold us both, upper set of arms clamping on the rail, fighting to get to higher ground.

That's when the giant octopus thing burst from the chemical tank.

Without warning, a sucker tipped tentacle lashed out, ripping Dennis out of Ibira's clutches.

She screamed, scrabbling her way up the platform to get out of the thing's way. I grabbed the railing where I could, struggling to reach safety myself.

"Well, human," I heard her gasping as she stopped to catch her breath. "It looks like you're going to get your wish."

Dying by her side, I thought. "I wish I could take back the dying part."

"Agreed," she said. "Still, I _have_ enjoyed your company."

When I opened my mouth to reply, the fasteners on the left side of the platform snapped off, leaving us hanging from a single feeble looking clamp.


	97. Chapter 98: Factory

With extreme effort, Ibira clambered up the railing, with me in her arms, latching onto a post just seconds before the platform broke off completely, smashing down on some power conduit or something in the chemical station below.

I stuck my fingers through a floor grating, climbing up until I could scramble to my feet, where Ibira with her four arms was already standing.

Hearing a clank, I looked beside me and saw some sort of metal grappling hook had clamped onto one of the nearby tanks, apparently a zip line, for a couple seconds later I saw a brown skinned figure zooming across the gap on a pair of motorized handlebars.

He jumped off, landing beside me.

"Snake!" I cried. "How the hell did you get here?"

The man's eyes narrowed. He had an expression on his face like I had stolen his wallet or something.

"Excuse me," he said. "_Do I know you_? Because I sure as fuck don't remember giving you my name!"

He glanced at Ibira questioningly, but she only shrugged two sets of shoulders. "Don't look at me. I didn't say anything."

Beneath us, the beast gurgled and thrashed threateningly.

"Let's just say I'm psychic," I said. "I'll explain later."

He nodded, pulling out a pistol. "It better be a _damn good _one!"

We ran down the catwalk.

"So how _did_ you get here?" Ibira panted. "The Na'vi and Tamtiwa are everywhere."

"I've got people, and I know things. Suffice to say I saw you had a chance, so I decided to help."

I frowned at my alien girlfriend. "You know each other?"

"_We worked at Encore together_," Snake said.

_Everyone_ works at Encore, I thought with some annoyance. Even when I worked at a _normal_ call center, people talked about that place. It seemed I was the only one that _hadn't _worked there.

"Small world," I groaned.

We reached the door, but it was locked with a card lock, and wouldn't open. The windows around the door and above the handle were covered in grimy yellow slime, so I couldn't see anything but the vague general outlines of machinery.

"Hold on," Snake said, digging out a badge.

He ran the card through the scanner, but the red light stayed red.

"Figures." Shaking his head, he clicked on his safety, smashing the grimy glass on the door.

It was security glass. The breach only revealed a tough metal screen.

Still, Snake was unperturbed. After knocking the shards out, he pulled out...his _crysknife_, which he ran through the fencing like a saw.

To my surprise, it cut like one of those Ginsu knifes on TV. In no time, he had the grating removed and was turning a handle, opening the door.

"Thank God it's not a two way security lock," he muttered.

Without warning, he flicked the blade across my face, drawing blood. He sheathed the weapon.

"Dammit!" I cried.

"Sorry, man," he said. "It's a _rule_. No sheathing without blood."

"Why don't you cut your own face," I grumbled.

He ignored me.

We hurried through the door, checking back and forth to see if the coast was clear.

We were on the upper landing of a vast chemical plant, giant steaming vats pumping bubbling substances through tubes, machinery on a conveyor belt chopping out lines of violet sublimate for some unknown purpose. Catwalks extended from the landing in three directions, the two side ones disappearing behind the machines.

Ibira gestured to the factory. "Care to enlighten us, Snake?"

"Shit, I don't know. I work in Cloning Supply. Rule of thumb around here: Keep your nose down before someone, _or something_ bites it off."

"So," I said. "`Multicolored asses.'"

Snake just shook his head. "Hell, I was just trying to _save your life_, not sit down and write _Shakespeare_!" He let out a short braying laugh. "You know what I'm saying?"

"We should keep going," Ibira said. "I'm sure Mr. Jennings will be sending reinforcements soon."

"What are we looking for?" Snake asked.

"Ask blue boy," she muttered.

"It's a...biological agent," I said. "The guy's planning to wipe out everything on earth with it."

Snake frowned. "Think it might be that purple shit down there?"

"I don't know," I said. "If this guy can make the kind of freaks we saw in the other room, it could be _anything_. Maybe something worse than the stuff I'm looking for...but I think the stuff I'm looking for is white."

"Sounds like anthrax," he said.

"Not really. With anthrax, you at least have a chance of walking away."

He looked impressed. "_Damn._"

And then I remembered seeing his bloated corpse on the front lawn, giant mushroom exploding from his mouth, eye sockets empty save for blobs of doughy white mold.

I shook the image away.

We rushed down a catwalk, beneath a crisscrossed network of chemical pipes, passing through a cloud of steam with the scent of new car smell and spoiled tuna.

Beyond, _I saw them_.

It reminded me of something from a Ford Motor plant, except all the people and machines were busy building those disgusting man eating plants.

Conveyor belts carried squishy looking pieces of shell down to Na'vi clad in jumpsuits, who used a sort of glue gun to stick it to other pieces, or place organs inside.

Mechanical arms injected substances into the halves, stabbed root systems into their bottom portions.

Further down the conveyor, another machine dumped tons of powder into the plants, the lip-like apertures sucking at it greedily like it were the nectar of the gods. Na'vi around the device wore masks to protect themselves.

"Gods," Ibira gasped. "You were right."

"What now, psychic?" Snake asked.

"Honestly?" I said. "We need to burn this place to the ground."

Snake laughed. "That's a tall order, my friend. What would you like to have after that? The keys to the Playboy Mansion?"

"Wait," said Ibira. "I have an idea. Do you know where you can find a laser?"

"No..." he said. "Wait. Actually, I _do_ remember delivering a D97 unit to this place a week ago."

"Where is it now," she said.

He didn't say anything. He just moved.

We followed him across a catwalk, and down a flight of narrow aluminum stairs to the manufacturing floor.

We passed through rows of electrostatic free stations, among humanoid pigs in lab coats which, strangely, paid us no attention, I guess do to being so obsessed with their work.

We turned a corner around a big flat blue machine...apparently a sort of drying oven for something, and then we were at a bank of mechanical arms busily lasering devices into the plant things.

"Voila!" Snake said. "_Lasers_."

"Thank you," Ibira said, marching over to a machine to examine it.

After staring at it for a moment, she said, "Do you know how we can remove-"

She didn't get to finish. All of a sudden, my body stiffened up, and started moving against my will.

In a second, I watched myself snatch a pistol out of the back of Snake's pants, pointing the barrel at my own head.

"Hey! Shithead!" I heard a voice in my head saying. "You're driving a rental!"

Then I pulled the trigger.


	98. Chapter 99: Suicide Mission

The gun clicked.

"Hey genius," Snake barked. "You forgot the safety."

He snatched the gun out of my hand before my `rental' could do any more damage, hitting me across the face with the butt for good measure.

"If you don't want to live, man, that's fine. But have the decency not to use my bullets, and end your life _constructively. _Considering our current situation, that won't be hard. I somehow doubt that any of us are going to make it out of this alive."

He turned to face Ibira. "So what's the plan?"

She pulled off her top, uncovering a harness crisscrossed with empty cartridge and grenade holders, and a bandolier with something that looked like an old garage door opener attached to it.

She smiled when she noticed me admiring her body.

She unclipped the opener, marching over to one of the laser machines. "I'm going to give you ten minutes to get out of here. Once I place my shield generator under this laser, you're not going to want to stick around."

Snake put a hand on my girlfriend's upper shoulder. "Whoa, Qozisa. Do you even know how to use this shit?"

In reply, Ibira flipped a switch on the machine, pushing buttons. "I used to work in a factory. I dishonor my tribe with my technical knowledge."

She draws a happy face on the quivering plant with the laser arm.

Snake let out a braying laugh. "You see me complaining?"

He slapped her on the back. "All right then. Let's set this up and get the hell out of here."

"I'm not going," she said.

Snake's mouth fell open, and so did mine.

"You can't!" I cried.

But Snake said, "You sure?"

Ibira nodded. "I'm the only one who can do this. I need to be here to type the commands into the machine and keep the shield in place."

Her sideways glance indicated she wasn't merely talking about a steady hand. She was talking about an attack.

Snake hugged her. "I'll never forget you."

She gave him a small smile.

He marched down the assembly floor a few paces, gesturing for me to follow, but I waved him away.

He looked at me like I was crazy. Maybe I was.

"You should go," Ibira said.

I shook my head. "I'm not leaving your side."

"You are either incredibly brave, or incredibly stupid."

"Probably stupid," I said. "Is it okay if I kiss you?"

I was about to predicate this with "one last time," but she silenced me by smashing my face between her tusks and giving me some tongue.

As we kissed, an idea seized me so suddenly that I thought it must have been put there by the strangers who put me in this place to begin with.

I snatched her shield device out of one of her hands, clutching it to my chest.

Still kissing, she tried to pull it out of my grip; but I covered it with my other hand.

She broke away from me, staring in surprise. "You can't!" she cried.

"I must," I said. "It's the only way. You have to live, to meet me in the future."

She frowned. "You _really are_ insane."

"That may be so," I said. "But I love you, and I would rather die than live without you."

Very few people expressing such sentiment actually have the opportunity, or misfortune, to say that in such a literal sense.

She was crying.

Swallowing a lump in her throat, I heard her say, "You are blue, but a Qozisa heart beats beneath your breast." And then she kissed me again. Vatrehir no umunquz. May we find each other in the great hunting fields of Vatrehir."

Leaning close to the machine, we kissed one last time. It was long, and passionate, but Ibira was multitasking the whole time, so it wasn't like were were just screwing around.

While one hand massaged my buttocks, she had another hand pushing buttons on the control console while a third was pressing some sort of override button.

"23974," she breathed in between tonguings.

With one hand on my back, the other on my butt, she held up the garage door opener, pointing to a button with her other hand.

"Red means it's on."

Then she clipped something onto my loincloth.

"Ten minutes starts now." And she slapped my butt, running off to join Snake.

Hearing a beep, I glanced down at my loincloth.

Ibira had fastened a lady's digital watch to the spot on the strap right next to my crotch, the readout facing me so I could see the countdown.

Nine minutes, zero seconds.

I looked up and Ibira was gone. She always _did_ have skills.

I searched back and forth, but no one seemed to be pursuing me.

This is going to be the loneliest nine minutes of my life, I thought.

But then I thought, no. The loneliest nine minutes of my life was at the senior prom. And there were nine minutes of loneliness after the first nine.

This was...

_Better._

8:00.

I heard something explode, and thought I did something wrong, but I was still intact.

In the distance, back the way we came, I saw a little ball of flame swelling from the dark.

The ball grew to the size of a half dollar, debris flying every which way.

The light faded and black smoke rose up.

7:00.

What was that I saw? Did Snake detonate something to close the place off? Did Dennis survive? Is he out there helping?

A pig in a labcoat marches past me, oblivious.

It's hot in here, even being semi-naked doesn't help. I suppose the humid climate helps the fungus to grow.

6:00.

Another labcoated pig. This one approaches my machine, snorting about something.

I stab him to death. It had to be done. One life for...ninety billion plus?

2:00.

Yeah, not so easy to kill someone. The last couple times I attacked a Na'vi, I was running. Didn't go back to check if they were still alive. Probably were. But now I was stuck at one position.

The corpse bleeds out at my feet. I guess I shouldn't complain about being lonely, huh? Kind of a gross companion, but I _do_ have company.

He doesn't talk much, but we don't speak the same language anyway. We won't be together long.

1:00.

I hurriedly punch in the number sequence, hoping I remembered it correctly.

Ibira had been busy during our little makeout session. Each number I pushed activated a series of machine movements, a `macro' if you will. By the time I reach the four, the arm is practically beckoning to me with the laser, ready for its final cut.

I push the button on the garage door opener.

I see a shimmer as the shield activates.

I bring it closer to the laser.

And closer.

And closer.

But then I can't move. It's like I've become paralyzed from head to foot.

I heard a voice laughing inside my head. "Check and mate."

I tried to rebel against him and move my arm, but I couldn't.

"You should have let your honey do the job. You clearly don't have the guts for it."

"Shut up," I growled. "You're not winning this one."

"Oh yeah? _Well it sure looks that way to me_! In fact, you just _played right into my hand_! The future will just keep on rolling ahead like it was before, and you went through all that trouble for nothing."

What pissed me off the most was the fact he was right.

"You bastard," I said.

"I would have preferred `genius' or `diabolical mastermind,' but I imagine this is a rather emotional moment for you, helplessly watching the end of mankind unfolding and all, so I'll interpret your little outburst as a compliment.

I stared at the machine in sullen silence, helpless to do anything but slowly watch the end of humanity roll down the assembly line.


	99. Chapter 100: Rehire

I refused to surrender to the voice. Mr. Jennings was no god. He was just a midget with a genetics laboratory, and I was determined to prove this to him.

I strained my muscles, forcing them to move, if only by centimeters. The laser beam beckoned.

"You're not going to win," the voice said. "You're only going to strain yourself. Give your real body stress related heart problems, or something worse than that."

"You're not the boss of me," I growled.

"Keep fighting," I heard Steel calling in my mind. "Don't give in. You're almost there."

I tried, giving it my all. I moved one inch, then another, but it was like swimming against powerful rapids.

At once, my body erupted in searing pain.

"How do you like that!" Mr. Jennings said. "You want more? Keep going, and I'll inflame every nerve in your fucking body! You won't even be able to stand!"

"Don't listen to him, Jason," said Steel. "Keep fighting."

Clenching my teeth as the pain swept through me, I moved one foot in front of the other, bringing the device closer to the laser.

And then I saw Steel.

I'm not sure if he were real, or a hallucination from the searing pain, but he came to me, grabbing my arms, and I felt his strong muscles pulling me forward, placing the active device in the path of the laser.

A blinding ball of light erupted from the point where the laser and shield made contact.

The ball exploded outwards, and my body was engulfed in searing white hot flame.

Although I was certain that I had been vaporized, I found myself flying back.

My head snapped backwards...

And I heard a hollow clang as my head hit the wall of the depressurization tank.

I sat up with a start.

I was sprawled naked on the rubber mat, staring at the same episode of Sportscenter I had been looking at the day I first joined DOGOS.

I rubbed my head. "The fuck?"

I shivered in the cold tank, rubbing my arms for warmth.

My clothes were on the floor, just like last time. I put them on.

Fearing I was essentially buried alive in a world full of mushroom planters, I banged on the door, screaming at the top of my lungs.

No answer.

I slumped on the rubber mat, wondering what the hell was going on.

I fell asleep.

Hearing someone knocking on metal, I sat up with a start, hurrying to the hatch.

"Hello? Are you alive?"

I heard a laugh. "No, _I'm dead_. Do I need to call for a psychologist?"

I sighed. "No. But can you please open this door so I can see you?"

The submarine hatch clanked open, and I was looking at Gary again.

"Oh thank God!" I cried. "I thought you were dead!"

Chuckling, he said, "I could say the same thing about you."

I sighed. "What am I doing in this tank?"

"Your, uh, _friend_. Snake. He _did something to your neck_. Ring any bells?"

"Yeah?" I said slowly. "Did I have a relapse?"

Gary laughed and shook his head. "No, but I think that sapmux blood has done something to your brain!"

I furrowed my brow in puzzlement. "How is Grace? Is she all right?"

"She's fine," he said.

"Well, thank God for that," I said.

"Will do," he grinned.

I kept staring at him. None of this made any sense. Did Snake slash my neck again?

Gary was watching the TV, not paying attention to my expression of absolute bewilderment.

I mean, I knew Steel sent me back in time to various places, but why this? What was I supposed to accomplish in my own timeline that I couldn't do before?

Was this really Steel's doing?

What if I dreamed the whole thing, and now I'm waking up?

"Where's Haman?" I asked.

It was Gary's turn to look baffled. "Who?"

"My baby," I said. "Half Qozisa, half human."

He burst out laughing, slapping his knee, turning red in the face from laughing so hard.

He pointed at me, opened his mouth to say something, then lost control again.

He was crying, wiping his eyes and wheezing from all the laughter.

"Oh wow. God. I never knew you were such a live wire!"

He grinned at me, waiting for a punch line or something, I suppose, but I gave him none. I looked at him quite seriously.

"So...uh...who's the mother?"

"Ibira," I said indignantly. "Heard of her?"

Gary chortled through his nose, then coughed, forcing himself to look serious. "Have you been _spying_? Is that why Snake cut your neck? I want to know, because we require everyone to sign non-disclosure agreements, and someone has obviously been talking to you." He paused. "It was Rick, wasn't it?"

I frowned. "No, it was Steel."

Gary gave me a blank look. "Who?"

I just shook my head. "Never mind. Just give me the non disclosure forms to sign. I know the drill."

"_How_?" he said. "How do you know the drill? You're a Sprint agent."

"I don't know," I said. "Maybe I'm psychic. I know you have alien computers with holographic technology, and you have to wear dresses to talk to the customers. I'll do whatever you say."

He let out a low whistle. "All right. If you can put those psychic powers to use on the floor, I'll be even more impressed. _Scared_, even. But if it makes us money, it'll be a good kind of scared."

"You're lucky they didn't shred your clothes," Gary said as he marched over to the bench. "These guys are licensed paramedics."

I rolled my eyes.

Gary straightened the stack of paper he'd been carrying. "I'm going to show you a series of pictures," he said, raising the top sheet on the stack. "I want you to tell me what they are."

I stared at the paper. It looked like a photograph of a wallpaper stain. "What do you see?"

"It looks like an Ikran," I said.

"_Ohhkay_." He flashed another card.

"A Qozisa with her back turned."

He showed me another.

"Some kind of alien. Ovosdam, I think."

For the next one, I said, "The letter E."

He looked at me with this shocked expression that made me wonder if he planned to attempt medical treatment. "Is that really what you see?"

"Yeah. I said. I...think it's the Na'vi symbol for E."

Gary gave me this look like he was on Candid Camera and this was the practical joke. He set the cards down.

"I've got some bad news, I'm afraid," he said.

"Let me guess," I groaned. "I'm going to have to be here a long time. Because of what I know."

He sat down on the bench with his chin in his hand, looking contemplative.

"How much do you actually know about our operating systems?"

"They're kind of annoying," I said. "I just barely squeak by. The training classes didn't help very much. I always try my best, but these calls are difficult, and Dennis...he's a difficult person."

Gary burst out laughing. "It's like you're already working with us!"

He slapped me on the back. "Stay right here. I'm going to talk with Grace and some people, and see about getting you some non-disclosure forms."

He walked to the door, then stopped. "Anything I can get you while you wait?"

"Yes," I said. "I'd like one of those stainless steel bottles of soda pop, the cola one, one of those chicken fried alien legs, a urinal, and maybe a visit from Ibira if it's not too much trouble."

He looked genuinely scared. "I'll see what I can do."

He shut the door, and I waited a long time.


	100. Chapter 101: Reunited

When the tank opened again, I saw Grace and Gary walking in together, Gary with a clipboard full of papers in one hand.

Gary seated himself next tome, handing me the packet, but Grace remained standing.

"We're still not...sure what to do with you," Gary said. "But we do think it appropriate for you to sign a few non-disclosure forms."

"If I tell anyone, I'm fired and blackballed," I said. "And you could wipe my memory. Got it. Pen please."

Looking shocked, Gary handed me one.

"Did I, I mean, _did Henry_ take care of the fungus?"

Grace sighed, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. "What kind of fungus are we referring to?"

I signed some papers. "There's a deadly mold spore people have been catching. Makes mold explode out of their skulls. You saw an underground cache of the stuff that time you fell down a hole when you were little."

I received an icy silence in response. I wasn't looking at the woman, but I could feel her eyes boring into me.

"See?" Gary said. "He _knows things_ about us. He even knows what's on the menu in the cafeteria. Get this. He thinks _that he and Ibira had a baby together._"

She snorted, but I wasn't sure if that was a laugh or something else.

Gary paused. "Who's Steel?"

"Steel is an elemental," Grace said. "He assists us on certain..._projects_. Does he claim to know him as well?"

"I think so."

Looking skeptical, the woman asked, "Tamtiwa-yo Ulkaku-lec?"

"Fluently," I replied. "Barbejuk-Sirlicar-Henryparf unk?"

She looked stunned, but her professional mask dropped away. At least, a little bit.

"Henry gave his life to destroy that factory. The only reason why I'm alive right now is because Victor and Snake carried me over to PODS before the explosion. The blast destroyed my home and the entire Tamtiwa civilization. So...Steel told you about all of this, did he? Even the language?"

"Yes," I said. "But I'm not sure we saved humanity yet."

Gary and Grace stared at each other in awkward silence.

"You said he knows about the devices and dress code."

Gary shrugged. "Like I said, it's almost as if he's worked here before."

Grace looked me in the eye. "_Have you?_"

"Uh," I stammered. "_In a manner of speaking_. _In the future..._"

Gary flipped to a page in the booklet. "You may be familiar with the rest of this packet, but this one is new. It regards the Jennings Fungus. By signing this, you agree that information regarding the fungus does not leave this room, and any new information about this biological agent must be forwarded to me and/or Grace immediately."

"What about Osmifa?" I asked. "She cured you of the disease last time."

The two stared at each other again.

"You must consult me before discussing the matter with her," Grace said.

"Fine," I groaned. "But I intend to speak to her as soon as you let me out of here. I have some questions to ask her."

"I'm afraid that's impossible," Grace said. "Osmifa is..."

I frowned. "She's dead?"

The woman reddened. "No."

Gary laughed. "She's um, _you know how human women have periods?_"

"So it's that time of the month," I guessed.

Gary nodded. "It's kind of disgusting. She sort of..._throws up._"

I rolled my eyes. "_Okay._"

I filled out more papers. "So where's my lunch? It feels like it's been forever since I've had a plate of alien mystery meat."

And then I grinned. "It's good to see you guys alive again. It really is."

I received more stares.

They took my papers, then walked away, muttering to one another as they left.

Then I was alone again, probably for another hour.

Still, it was a vast improvement from the lonely office full of bloated corpses.

I must have drifted off, for I found myself sprawled on the bunk, awakening to the sound of the tank door being cranked open.

I watched with delight as my Qozisa girlfriend marched into the tank, bearing a tray of food and a metal bottle.

The expression on her face was one of puzzlement, possibly annoyance. "Explain to me again why I'm leaving class to play waitress."

"Because I love you," I answered. "And I'd gladly do the same for you."

She stared at me. "Those are awfully strong words coming from someone I've never met."

"And I mean every word of them," I said with a smile. "You are so beautiful."

Ibira gawked at me for a moment, nearly spilling her tray. She set it and the drink down, seating herself next to me. "You find _me_. _Beautiful_."

I looked into her eyes, thinking about how forward she'd been with me that first day. I swallowed and said, "Yes. _Sexually attractive_, even."

She blushed, but said nothing.

"Do you happen to remember meeting a blue guy that claimed to be a human from the future?"

Ibira trembled, suddenly looking shy. "I..._might..."_

"I'm not on those hunting grounds just yet."

"Gods," she whispered. "He was right!"

I stroked her tusk with my finger, causing her to draw in a shuddering breath.

"Greater men have died after touching a Qozisa female in this way."

"Then kill me."

She grabbed my hand with two of hers. "Have you really been telling others that we had a child together?"

I reddened. "Yes. Yes I have."

She let go, pushing my hand away. "Why?"

"Because it's true. In the future, it happens."

"Why would you choose me over a human girl?"

I didn't like my earlier answer, so I said, "You don't often choose who you fall in love with."

I sighed. "The only problem is that you're fatally allergic to..._my chromosomes._"

"So things got _that far," _she said with a somewhat skeptical tone, her skin nearly a solid orange.

"Yeah," I said. "You had a baby, but you died." I looked away from her. "So, uh, I guess we're not meant to be together or anything."

I returned my gaze to her eyes. "Still, I'm happy just to see you alive and breathing again. That's really all that matters to me."

I gave her a hug.

Ibira pressed her face to mine, wiggling me between her tusks as she kissed me on the lips.

I closed my eyes and kissed back, allowing her tongue to tickle the back of my throat.

She withdrew suddenly. "Your food will get cold."

"You're probably right." And I kissed her again.

"We don't even know each other," Ibira murmured as she paused to get air.

"_I know_," I said, parting her mouth.

Two of her hands slid up inside my shirt while the others grabbed at my pants.

"What do you see in me?" I breathed.

"I don't know," she said. "Maybe you're the first person in this company and my last job I've met that actually found me attractive."

Then, after another exchange of saliva, "And then there's what a certain Tamtiwa said to me about you. Mostly I'm just lonely."

Thinking about her death, I retreated. "I'm hungry," I said.

"Love will keep us alive," she said as she clutched my hand against her chest. "Isn't that how the song goes?"

Sighing, I said, "Look. You're amazing, but I don't want to lose you again. I know for a fact that..._certain things_ can kill you, and probably other Qozisa, I imagine."

"So your semen is poisonous," she said.

"Basically."

"I believe you." She caressed me with her two right hands. "_But I'm not afraid of death._"

"Well I'm afraid of yours," I said.

Ibira nuzzled against my neck. "We'll figure something out." Then she handed me the tray.

I slumped my shoulders and ate.

"I need to get back to class," she said.

I nodded. "That's fine. I'm happy just to see you again."

She gave me a wink, then knocked on the submarine door until someone let her out.

The food was the most delicious thing I'd eaten in weeks. I savored every bite.

At last, Gary led me out of the chamber, into that now familiar gray corridor with the gold plastic name plates and inspirational posters.

He knocked on Grace's door, and I was led into her office.

Gary shut the door, and I was told to take a seat.

There was a long silence, wherein they shuffled papers.

Capitalizing on the situation, I opened my mouth and shouted, "Friendship is magic!"

Gary looked at me like I was crazy, but Grace suddenly went pale.

A second later, a soft banging sound answered me from the desk.

"What's that?" Gary asked.

"It's a childhood plaything," Grace said with a cold edge to her voice. "The more important question is, _how in God's name does he know my secret password_?"

"Steel told me," I said with a shrug.

She scowled at me.

"_Moving on_," Gary suggested.

Grace cleared her throat. "As you may or may not be already aware, your attendance has been exemplary, but your work has only been average."

"Which is ironic," Gary said. "Because if we move you to a different department, Sprint will lose money. You're actually doing a decent job, _where you are_. No offense, but you're more of a `meets,' rather than `exceeds,' type of employee."

"I got it, I got it," I groaned. "_Broken record_. So I'm not impressive, but I'm good for subbing in when other more qualified employees are out sick. Or are being..._attacked by tribes of bloodthirsty blue savages_. So you otherwise want me to stay on with Sprint. Fine. Papers, please?"

"You don't want to hear the cover story you'll be telling everyone in order to avoid violating your non-disclosure agreement?"

I frowned. "RPS Incorporated. We do collections for Citibank, Kohls, and small furniture companies. Private label credit cards. Good so far?"

They gave me the papers, and I signed my life away.

Gary picked them up. "We'll let you know when it's time for orientation. Just continue what you were doing and we'll pull you off the phone."

"I don't need an orientation," I protested. "I _was doing_ alien calls before. I know my stuff."

I told them about the various things I'd already handled in the company, but it didn't seem to change their minds.

"I'm sorry," Gary said. "All newhires have to undergo this training process. If you pass through this with flying colors, more power to you. You'll be out on the floor soon enough."

So there it was. Now I knew firsthand what happened when you completed your temporary assignment in DOGOS.

Honestly, compared to what I was doing, phone deactivation calls would be a breeze!

He gestured to the door, and I let myself out.

When I returned up top, and saw those familiar people on the phones, I almost cried. I felt like hugging them, but I knew that wouldn't be taken the right way.

The moment I stepped outside, I lost track of where I was, and what I was doing. It took me a minute to even figure out where my car had been parked.

At last I found it.

I thought I was doing good until I found myself being shoved into the hood.

"I just got the repair estimate," a voice growled in my face. "You didn't forget our little discussion, did you?"

"Dude, Snake!" I cried. "Buddy! Chill out! I'll pay for the damages!"

"Excuse me," Snake said. "But buddies don't smash in the front end of another man's car."

"I know," I said. "But you're a good guy. You saved Ibira and Grace from getting blown to pieces when that factory blew up. You're also going to..." I stopped, realizing that it wasn't going to come out right. "When you got someone's back, you really got it."

Snake backed away from me in horror. "Hold the phone, honkie! How the fuck do you know all that shit? We've just barely met!"

I just gave him an indifferent shrug. "Hold on a moment. I'll get you my checkbook."

"Jesus. This is like something out of the _Twilight Zone_. How the fuck...?"

I was unlocking my car when he slammed me into the door, grabbing my throat. "Who the hell has been talking! _Who_, dammit!"

"Steel," I said. "Ask Ms. Augustine about him."

He retreated a few feet, watching me pick up my keys and unlock the door.

"_That's all right_," he stammered. "_You can keep your money_. There's something about all this shit that isn't setting right."

Then he left me.


	101. Chapter 102: Reorientation

I stared at Snake in disbelief as he disappeared.

So I could keep the money. Bonus!

I drove home.

The first thing I get when I open the front door is not, "Where have you been for so long?" or "I missed you," but just my dad grumbling about the carvings on the closet door.

I told him I had a breakthrough and I would probably never do that again, but it was no use. I did what I was told and sprayed out the garage, just like last time.

When the place is thoroughly scrubbed and everything, I surprise dad with a hug, telling him I'm glad he's alive.

He just stares at me.

Being how I would have to immediately go back to work and what have you anyway, I made a much more thorough inventory of my bedroom, deciding exactly what would be best for a dangerous adventure on another planet.

Pants, I decided. Lots and lots of pants. Underwear. As much as I could possibly bring. Sheets and blankets, too. I also packed all my Boy Scout knives, because that's as close to a cache of weapons I have.

A pocket mirror seemed like an idea, too. For the Ikran. You know, birds like that sort of thing.

Dad, of course, asked me if I were moving out.

"I'm definitely thinking about it," I said. "You never know."

I lied to mom about the CVS Minute Clinic again. To be honest, the cheap bastards wouldn't treat a cough, if I came in for one more than once, but I didn't mention that to her.

I asked her if I could borrow one of her raincoats, the one that didn't look feminine looking. If I were going to get glop all over me, I figured I'd kind of not get it all over me.

We had supper, and dad went downstairs, to his "cave."

Since I knew he'd be asking me for help soon, I did the dishes he would yell about tomorrow (the sink was kind of disgusting, and he didn't bother me because he was downstairs), grabbed a random book, one of his Stephen King novels, and thumbed through it until he yelled for me.

Knowing what to expect, I provided speedy "technical support".

I read some more. Not because I liked the book, but because I knew he'd ask for me again, which happened just a few minutes later.

So I did some more packing, forgetting the precise sequence of events that led to my eventual employment at DOGOS. No big deal.

I drove to work with my car loaded with supplies, found the sheet of paper on my keyboard, and marched straight to that little office near the front entrance. It was, of course, the man with the German shepherd ears.

I was happy to note that no mold spores were exploding from his head.

"Hello, Mr. Vuembi," I said in a pleasant tone.

"So you've heard about me. Please. Have a seat."

I did so. "I've signed some non-disclosure forms already..."

This didn't phase him any. "I don't think you've signed these yet."

They looked identical to the other ones I'd signed, but lapses in communication were common in many corporations, so I filled them out anyway.

"Are you going to be busy at all the next fourteen days? Any pressing engagements?"

"No," I said. "I don't have anything better to do than help get the communication system restored to U.S. Bank."

He clapped his hands. "So you've been briefed. I assume you also know we'll need to get you a drug screening right away."

"I don't see how a cock sleeve can scan your urine. I really don't. But I guess if that's how you guys do things around here, I'll do what you ask."

Vuembi frowned. "I'm going to be really interested in those test results." He had this tone like he suspected me of being a drug user.

"I hope you aren't going to be taking videos."

Puppy Ears rolled his eyes. "I hear you had an altercation with Sharon Jones."

"Yeah," I said. "But he's cool. When you need someone to cover your back, he's there for you."

"I'm glad to hear you say that. You know, you may actually be working next to him at some point."

I feigned surprise. "No!"

"Mr. Finch, what do you feel about the idea of extraterrestrial life?"

"What don't I feel about it?" I said. "Don't tell Ibira I said this, but me and her just made out. I'm just saying that because, well, I love aliens."

Vuembi stared at me. "Say that again?"

"I love aliens," I repeated.

"No. The other part."

"I love Ibira," I said, not wanting to be one of those guys that kiss and brag. "And, I, well, maybe really love her."

He cleared his throat. "I see. Tell me, who do you live with?"

"My mom, dad, and brother. I don't have a wife...yet. And my girlfriends are...here. I'm fine with a little vacation away from the planet."

"Are your emergency contacts are still up to date?"

"Yeah."

Vuembi clenched his fist, popping his fins out. "Ahhh. Feels good to stretch."

"Are those of any use?" I asked. "Like when you're swimming or anything?"

He looked surprised that I wasn't more shocked. "Somewhat."

He folded his fins and stuck one of those colorful bugs in his mouth. He offered the bowl to me.

I munched one of the bugs. It didn't taste any better the second time I sampled it.

"It's good, no?"

"No. I guess it's acquired taste."

Vuembi cleared his throat. "You have a day to pack everything you need for the trip."

"I have my stuff already," I said. "I had a hunch we were doing this today."

"We're not quite ready yet," he said. "There is paperwork we need to file for you. System information that needs to be updated with your profile. Please come back in twelve hours, when we have everything prepared."

"While you're at it," I said. "Do you want my measurements?"

He stared at me like I were speaking about something with a sexual connotation. "Excuse me?"

"For the uniform. And the diaper."

He relaxed somewhat. "Certainly."

I told him the information, and he jotted it down on a little pad. "Be here at five thirty. Sharp."

So that was that.

As I was leaving, he added, "Oh, and don't forget about the drug test. Go ask Gary where it is."

"I know how to get to the lab," I said.

He frowned. "Do you. That's very odd, because I've never seen you before today."

I just gave him a shrug and walked to the medical lab.

As before, Sal and her purple salamander friend were busy counting inventory.

I cleared my throat. "I need a drug test."

The petite elf woman ignored me at first, counting out loud.

I walked up to her desk. "Excuse me. I'm supposed to get a drug test."

She looked around me in puzzlement. "Isn't there supposed to be someone escorting you?"

I had missed that chirping sound she made at odd times during conversations. It made me smile.

"I guess Gary was," I admitted. "But I knew where to go. My name's Jason. I'm a new hire."

She frowned a little. "All right..."

She handed me the white rubber sleeve, sticking in the memory card and a liner before she handed it to me.

"Put this over your penis and urinate into it."

Again, it was all purely clinical. But from what clinic, on what planet, I couldn't guess.

"Right."

I wasn't sure if I could go.

"Would you like a soda? Pepsi? Mountain Dew? Azaoca? Apple juice?"

I swallowed. "Uh...what's Azaoca?"

"It's kind of like carbonated tartar sauce. It's all right."

"Doctor Pepper?" I asked. "Maybe? Coke?"

Her assistant handed me a container of something that tasted like Mr. Pibb.

A few minutes later, I was rushing to the bathroom.

Sal laughed. "Place the Sopolo in the cabinet when you're finished."

I closed the door, doing what had to be done.

I stepped out, and she checked the device with her scanner gun thing.

"Congratulations. You're negative for illegal substances." She frowned, squinting at the results.

I remembered her having to deal with some kind of technical issue with the scanner last time, so I was not at all surprised.

I left the room, strolling down the hallway.

Once more, I bumped into Brian Ross.

"Hello," I said.

"Hey! Goldfinch! What's shakin'?"

I rolled my eyes. Dork.

"Uh, just the usual," I said awkwardly. "Uh, I think I'm going to be working for DOGOS."

"It's a great company," he said. "Aliens everywhere. You'll absolutely love it."

"I...think I will."

I frowned as I thought about the peculiar circumstances surrounding his death.

"Uh...I'd be really careful around Hell's Gate if I were you," I warned. "This is going to sound really weird, but I had a dream where you...got sick and died after you went there."

Brian gave me a nervous laugh, then slapped me on the shoulder. "C'mon, man. A dream is just a dream. Don't let stuff like that freak you out. I'm sure there's nothing to worry about."

"I hope you're right," I said.

He laughed. "We're going to be working together! How awesome is that!"

"Pretty awesome," I said.

He clicked his tongue, flicking his finger at me.

...And he dropped by the hospital.

It felt really weird going back to an ordinary job dealing with Sprint phone activations and other such work, but I pretended like nothing was wrong.

When I came home, dad had found some sort of wood varnish stuff, which he ordered me to apply to my closet door. I shrugged and did what he told me, though you could still see the markings if you looked closely enough.

Once done with that, I informed him about the trip to Pandora.

"We're going to be doing a leadership event for two weeks," I said. "It's crazy. I don't know exactly what we're going to be doing, but I guess it's going to be in the woods somewhere."

"Gives me less dishes to clean," he said. "Where are you going?"

"There's a place in Wichita," I lied. "I've seen pictures. It looks like a dump, but, hey, it's paid."

"Are you being promoted?"

"...Maybe."

And then I told mom about it over supper.

"Sounds like fun. Do you know what you'll be doing down there?"

"It's a little weird. There's going to be a lot of vigorous calisthenics. Rock climbing and stuff. I'm not sure what it has to do with the company, but it might be fun."

"It sounds fun to me," she said.

"Yeah. I guess..."

I already had my stuff packed the night before, so I just did a last minute check, trying to see what else might be good to take.

I went to bed really early, but I got some melanin from the drug store, which knocked me out right away. I was groggy the next morning from the pill, but I felt a little better than I had the last time I pulled this stunt.

I brought my stuff to the designated door, carefully packed in trash bags so I could limit the amount of trips.

Victor, of course, greeted me, as my own personal bellboy.

"C'mon. Hurry. We're moving in twenty minutes."

"How's Rupert doing?" I asked.

Victor chuckled. "So you've heard of Rupert, huh? You're just full of surprises. Rupert is doing just fine. He's a little cranky, though, which is why I suggest you hurry with your shit. C'mon. I'll show you to your sleeping quarters."

"I...think I have an idea where they are," I said.

"Well then," he said, dropping my things on the floor. "Have at it. If you have a brain fart, come find me and I'll show you to your room."

I nodded. "Thanks."

"You've also got a class that should be starting in a couple minutes. Room 117. I think if you hurry you can catch it."

Remembering how I'd missed things last time, I hurriedly lugged my things down to the room full of bunk beds, throwing them on the bottom bunk.

I hoofed it to Room 117, knocked on the closed door, and Vuembi let me in, seating me in the usual spot, with the alien computers.

I touched nothing. I just waited for him to lecture.

Like before, Ibira was curiously absent from the classroom.

"Before I begin, I need to give you a little history lesson. Dogos was founded in 3029 on the planet Geidi Prime. The original purpose of the company was shipping a drug called melange to different planets."

Since I didn't say anything about this, he continued his speech about the company's history. Harkonnen Industries, FARUK, and DOGOS.

Then, of course, he introduced us to the Gezrot devices. Instead of experimenting like everyone else, I was toggling menus and trying to see if I could find any sort of knowledge center or other useful system to help me do my job.

It helped to know the password he was just about to give us.

Two classmates brought up alien porn with the device, and Vuembi disabled the screen, threatening them with termination.

He gave us a drill on button commands. I tried to skip ahead, but he scolded me, telling me to stay with the group. It seems the bell curve doesn't only exist on earth.

Next we had our Neepra language instruction. I did need a refresher in that. What he said made perfect sense, about how the alien earwigs are not a hundred percent reliable.

It was a long lesson, and one of the students complained about not getting a break. The answer was not surprising, and I was actually waiting for one of those diaper things.

In retrospect, I probably should have bought some depends before I came to work, but that would have been humiliating in many ways.

There were protests. The language lesson continued.

We had our break at 11:40. As Vuembi was starting his tour, I said, "Sir, I know where the bathroom and the other stuff is, and I gotta go. Can I be excused?"

He frowned and gave me a nod.

I hurried down the hall and did my business, catching up with the tour group at the cafeteria.

"And here's the lunch room. Remember. We meet back at 12:45. You're dismissed!"

I got in line, grabbing some Ikran steak. They said it would be charged to my employee account.

"You did it," a familiar voice said as a brown hand slapped mashed potatoes on my tray.

"I can only hope," I said, peering through the spit guard. "How do you know me when no one else seems to?"

Osmifa smiled. "I've been around awhile."

"I understand why I might go back in time to fix stuff, but why am I being made to relive my own life?"

She shrugged. "It's not my doing, so I don't know. Maybe it's a gift from your friends. Surely, there are some things in your life you'd rather do over..."

"I suppose so," I admitted.

I moved to the end of the `buffet', then looked around the cafeteria, trying to decide where to sit.

I didn't see that many faces I recognized that much, since this apparently was the training class lunch period. I think I may have run into a couple of them in a hallway, or seen their fungus exploded heads, but other than that, I didn't know any of them from Adam. Juanita was upstairs with Harry, and I figured, Ibira, Sigma and the others had their own lunch schedule.

I seated myself at a table empty save for a dark skinned man with nictating eyelids.

He wasn't much company. His head continually stuck in the third Harry Potter book. Not being a fan of the series, I just ate in silence, watching as he occasionally opened his mouth to slurp up dead flies and cockroaches from a Tupperware container with his long frog's tongue.

When I had finished my alien mystery meat, I noticed a female with a furry neck and arms pulling up a chair next to me. My nose recognized her before my head did.

"Hi," she said.

I rubbed my itching nose. "Hello, Sigma," I said, trying to hide my unease and disgust.

Yes, I was glad to see her alive, but as a wife, who did disgusting things while having sex...and me committed until death do us part...

She frowned. "Don't look so happy to see me."

"I'm sorry," I said. "I was just...thinking about something else."

Like my allergies.

"I hear you have a thing for my friend," she said.

I swallowed. "I might."

She gawked at me. "How do you even know who I'm talking about? Did she tell you, or have you been stalking me?"

"She told me," I said.

Sigma furrowed her brow. "I heard you totally freaked Vuembi out. He's even considering quitting after this training group."

"I don't know," I said. "I...I'm psychic, I guess. I know things about the future."

"What am I going to say next?" she asked.

"It doesn't work that way," I said. "All I know is what will happen if I do something different."

She laughed. "You definitely did something different in the decompression tank."

"Yeah..."

"You really think your junk is fatal?"

"It was last time. I seriously doubt there's a way to make it safe."

"I'm sure there's a way to make it safe," she said. "But Qozisa don't believe in contraception."

"I suppose we can just be friends, then."

Sigma put her hand on my shoulder. "She doesn't want to just be friends."

I frowned at her. "So what then? Does she have a death wish or something? I don't want to have her death on my conscience again."

She bowed her head. "Neither do I. Maybe you should talk to her. About some things."

"Do you know where she is now?"

"I'm...not sure. She might still be in a class or something."

Sigma grinned. "She's right. You are kind of cute."

She left the table, walking out.

On the way back to the classroom, I heard the distinctive shrieking of Victor and the others trying to shoot down an Ikran.

Knowing the building layout by memory, I made sure to avoid that section of hallway, making a beeline straight for the classroom.

All of a sudden, I caught a glimpse of something hazy shimmering into being just a couple yards ahead of me.

I froze, just staring at the mysterious object as it steadily gained definition.

I soon wished I hadn't.

What I saw next was a blue figure with a wide mouth and hateful little yellow eyes.

It clenched its fists, causing scimitars to flash from its wrists.

The mouth widened into a grin, baring a huge set of nasty looking shark's teeth.

And me without a weapon.

"Shit!" I cried in horror, turning to run.


	102. Chapter 103: I Do

I was pretty well screwed.

In my Na'vi body, I had a fair set of muscles. As a regular geeky human, who honestly didn't exercise as much as he should, I didn't have a chance against Shark Boy.

And so I ran, faster than I had ever done in my life.

Guess who I smacked into.

No, really. Guess.

There, standing in the way I was running top speed, was Snake.

The first thing out of his mouth was, "Hey, what the hell?"

And then I bowled him over.

As I lay awkwardly sprawled on top of him, he gave me this wide eyed indignant glare, like the incident with the car was nothing compared to the violence he intended to inflict upon me now.

But then I looked over my shoulder, and, once his eyes darted that way, his expression turned a one eighty.

"Oh my God!" he cried, shoving me onto the floor as he pulled out a gun.

The first shot went through the creature's forehead just seconds before it leapt at him, blades flashing.

Snake fired again, using the momentum of the bullet to knock the beast down.

Standing over the body, he aimed his gun, firing again and again, like a person trying to kill a spider that keeps twitching and crawling away after you squish it the first time.

To be fair, that's exactly what it was doing.

He fired until the gun clicked empty.

Once breathing a little more calmly, he turned to me and said, "Don't _ever_ do that again!"

I only shrugged. "What."

He frowned. "Get your pasty white ass over to that orientation meeting!"

I didn't argue. I hurried to the meeting room, nervously expecting more of those invisible things to pop out of nowhere at any given minute.

The usual crowd. Upper level employees in business casual, all of which I had seen as mushroom planters.

"If you've read Terra Incognita or The Tale of Two Birds by Emil Malak, or seen his movie, it's wrong. Just to let you know."

In my bored moments of being the Last Man on Earth, I actually Googled the people he mentioned. _Terra Incognita_ was a screenplay written by a sue happy lawyer, which involved koala bears and a genie. _The Tale of Two Birds_ was something written by a Japanese guy, which, I guess, could not be translated into English, for fear of it not even remotely resembling Avatar.

Of course, a couple documents I pulled from the DOGOS server said that ex employee Malak was forced to add the koalas and genies in order to compensate for James Cameron already stealing his work and making a mint off of it. _The Tale of Two Birds_ also closely resembled Avatar, except for the fact that everyone was a bird instead of a blue cat creature.

Gary gave his usual speech about how Pandora is not like what is depicted in the movie. I had yet to see a single glowing rock.

He then showed the picture of the pig snouted Na'vi. "Razorbacks."

"These are `razorbacks'," said Gary. "They're blue, and they have dreadlocks, but trust me when I say you definitely do not want them stuck in any part of you."

Despite my experiences with alien mind melds, I still agreed that a dreadlock bond with one of those pig monsters was bad news.

The comment about wild dogs from Pandora attacking people on earth went way over my head.

Despite all the time traveling and fighting, Gary was giving us the same mission briefing. We had to restore the U.S. Bank building back to working order.

"Normally they'd be able to handle the call volume, but NASLOR is experiencing attendance issues, and Runbis has been infested with Senlof biters."

When I was alone by myself trying to field calls (because I was lonely, not for any other reason), I encountered this NASLOR organization, and had a nice long chat about how everyone was dead and everything.

Their response: Stay off the system. Leave the calls to the professionals.

No complaints there. I guessed they were actually our competitors, but I didn't care enough to stand up for a company which consisted of nothing but me and a bunch of corpses.

I suppose I could have encountered Runbis as well, had I been trying harder.

"Tier 1 employees will field calls for Nomock, Vilrup Corp and Talpux. Tier 2 will transfer over to Facility B once contact with the other department is established. Tier 3 will accompany Vincent in reconnaissance, securing the facility. It's not as exciting as it sounds."

Actually, I found the idea of Tier 3 thrilling. At least, more thrilling than Tier 1, which, I supposed, I must be.

And then Lisa came forward with her papers, listing off team assignments.

Knowing where this was going to lead, I marched over to Necel and just stood there, waiting to be called.

"It appears you have received the memo," it muttered to me.

"Yeah," I said. "I guess you're my interim boss or something, right?"

It nodded, offering me its tail. I shook it.

"Can I ask you something?" I said as I frowned at the boss's skirt.

"I...suppose?"

Not caring one bit about tactfulness at this point, I blurted, "What sex are you?"

He stared at me in shock, blinking several times. A pair of fins popped out the sides of his ears. "I do not see why this is any of your concern."

"It concerns me," I said. "Because if I want to talk to you properly, I need to know whether to address you as a sir or ma'am."

His fins did that rattling thing the spitter dinosaur does on _Jurassic Park_. "My kind require three sexes to produce offspring. Because of this third party, I cannot describe myself as male or female. You will properly address me as `Y'nar', or `Nar Necel', and in conversation with coworkers, I strongly advise you to use the pronoun ``na' in place of he or she, `num for his or hers."

"Oh..._kay_."

"You do not want to know what that means in my language."

I was pretty certain I did, but I didn't say it. I was already on his bad side.

Oh. Wait. _Num_ bad side.

Neecel waved a tail at the exit. "Juz. I'll show you to the floor."

I followed _`na _to the little room full of tall drums that I had spent so many hours inside.

"This is the Tivsok where you'll be doing all your calls," _`na_ said.

"Great," I muttered. "So when do they let us wear polos and slacks like the other guys?"

_`Na_ stared at me. "Why would you want to wear slacks?"

I rolled my eyes. "Because they're comfortable, and you don't have to worry about things hanging out when you move the wrong way."

Necel looked genuinely confused. "I'm...sorry?"

"Never mind," I groaned.

Necel opened a drum, gesturing me to come closer to view its contents.

"I don't need to see it," I said. "I already know what's in there. It's a hamster cage with a desk."

"You seem..._oddly familiar_ with the company and its equipment, yet I've never seen you before."

I smirked. "Yeah. I get that a lot."

Necel frowned. "Hopefully you are less brusque when dealing with our customers."

I raised an eyebrow. "Don't you mean, _`will be'_?"

`Na shook his head. "I genuinely believe you may have worked for a similar operation in the past. I can only hope that you were more pleasant in your business transactions."

"I think I have a class to go to," I muttered.

Looking displeased, `na just gave me a nod and waved me out.

I didn't care. `Na would only manage me for a short time before Dennis the Menace took over.

I hurried back to my classroom, and found myself being subjected to a lecture I'd previously never heard, due to getting lost in the hallways the first time.

"You doubtless have been informed about various legal changes on earth regarding marriages between two people of the same sex, or a man and a child, or an animal. According to our policies, all such marriages are accepted as valid under the spousal law contact guidelines.

"Your language translators will provide adequate communication with hundreds of different animals.

"If you see any bruises or welts on any child you speak to, do not comment on it. As in situations involving same gender couples, DOGOS takes a stance of respectful distance when it comes to matters of culture and social practice, including physical and sexual quote-unqoute `abuse'."

I found this idea appalling and disgusting, but I had signed a contract that basically preventing me from working anywhere else, and, even at Sprint, we already had recognized gay marriage `spouses' when handling calls, so it wasn't much of a stretch. Rightness of those `unions' didn't matter to the company, just the amount of dollars collected.

If a dog, or even a baby could legally pay on a bill..._whatever_. I wasn't sure how to alert the police on an alien planet, anyway.

A few people got upset and argued with the instructor, but `na just shrugged and said it was an official company policy that he had no control over.

I saw people walking out. Judging by the fact I'd never seen their heads exploded by fungus, I assumed they had made themselves scarce somehow, officially boycotting DOGOS.

We soon got into the body of Vuembi's lecture on spousal permission on this and that planet. It was odd how he carefully avoided mentioning the pets and children law for the rest of the lecture

I was seated next to the spiky haired kid again. For good luck, I supposed.

I didn't bother to jot down notes, because I'd seen the stuff face to face a few times. I started to space out.

Vuembi pointed at me. "Mr. Finch. Who is considered a right party contact on planet Bamragad?"

The guy had caught me off guard. For a moment, I just froze.

Thinking he had me, he waved a scolding finger. "Pay attention-"

I cut him off. "Anyone who tends their potting soil."

The instructor gawked at me. "...Yes. That is correct."

Ibira smiled at me as she pulled into the seat next to me.

I smiled back, but it was a pained smile. I loved her, but it could never be.

Vuembi lectured on postdated payments, and packets of paper were passed around.

As Ibira passed me one of the booklets, I gazed sadly into her eyes.

She responded by slowly tracing a line from the underside of her neck, down her flat chest, to her belly, then her loincloth, all the while using her other hands to pass and sign papers.

Vuembi cleared his throat in annoyance, mostly because I hadn't passed my papers to the next person yet.

Ibira's roving hand swooped up to the shoulder strap of her harness, giving the instructor a look that implied that she had done nothing unprofessional.

I quickly moved the papers on, signing what I was supposed to sign.

Ibira tried to play that prank where you tap a person and pretend you didn't, but I was expecting it. The moment her finger poked me, I grabbed her hand.

She grabbed mine and held it, giving me that warm smile again.

The more she did these things, the harder I found it to break up with her. Yet it had to be done somehow. To spare her life.

Following the paperwork, we went around the room introducing ourselves. Again.

I was glad to see these people not being fungus planters like they were before, and I was glad to at last refresh my memory on their names.

Ibira gave her speech. "My name is Ibira, daughter of Sola, daughter of Tars Tarkas," she said. "I am from Barsoom. I have one year of customer service experience, I was separated from the U.S.-Galactic Bank facility during a razorback invasion, so I'm here to learn operations."

She cleared her throat. "Also, I am engaged to be married to the man over there."

She pointed straight at me.

I swallowed hard. "You are?"

My classmates laughed at my awkward response. I blushed.

Ibira's expectant gaze bore into me, making me blush more.

I gulped, nodding my head vigorously. "_Yeah_. _We are _engaged_._"

But I thought, What kind of wedding would this be? We can't consummate our union without it killing you.

Ibira returned to her seat.

"Let's have the groom-to-be come up here and introduce _himself_," Vuembi said. "I'm sure _everyone_ will find this _very interesting_."

Yeah. Interesting, all right.

Interesting as in, how the hell was I going to explain my all my detailed knowledge of the company, when I technically never worked for them before, or how I managed to get engaged to a classmate that I shouldn't even know yet?

I opened my mouth. "Uh..."

I swallowed. "I'm...Jason Finch. I, um, have a background in collections and customer service, and I, um, I'm a psychic. But it's a limited kind, so I can't read your minds or tell your future or anything."

There were chuckles and murmurs.

"Let's hope your talent translates into dollar amounts," Vuembi said with a wry smirk.

But then I saw a look of worriment cross his face. "So. I'm sure everyone is dying to know...how exactly did you and your..._fiancee_ meet?"

I glanced nervously at Ibira. "I..."

"We met at PODS," she blurted. "We used to work together."

I nodded in agreement with the half truth.

"You're just full of surprises, Mr. Finch," the instructor said. Then he moved on to interview another classmate.

When introductions concluded, we worked on computer stuff again.

Ms. Zia was behind my desk again, talking about the thirty eight sexual positions. I ignored her, focusing on the lesson.

Then, of course, we got the diapers. Because of the schedule adherence problem.

"Your species has inefficient bladder configurations," Ibira said as I took my pair. "Especially your females when they're pregnant."

Vuembi explained the diapers, why we had them and how they filtered your wastes into environmentally enriching materials.

"Go change," Vuembi said. "This will be your last fifteen minute break."

I was used to wearing them by now. Even after everybody died, I started wearing one to avoid going downstairs, to avoid going to the public restroom, where all the corpses were.

When I returned to my desk, I found Ibira had remained in the desk adjacent to me, unlike before. This probably had something to do with me sticking my tongue in her mouth, and her already knowing full well that I loved the sight of her body.

Vuembi drilled us on the computer programs, the menus, the buttons.

Since I had spent so much time with such things, I quickly lost interest, gazing at my `fiancee' in between toggling screens. In fact, I could gaze without missing a step in Vuembi's instructions.

It seemed Ibira was similarly unchallenged, for while she ran through the program menus like a good little girl with two hands, her other hands were busy doing something suggestive and naughty.

One hand would run up the side of her thigh, plucking at the corner of her loincloth, or she would run a hand over her flat chest, or put a hand between her legs and squeeze them together. At another time, she would pantomime putting a ring on a finger, but then lick the finger like she were..._licking something else_.

Of course, when Vuembi started to notice any of this happening, she would use her other two hands to scribble notes on a notepad.

I also managed to `multitask' successfully. When the instructor came around, I faced my hologram, clicking the buttons like everyone else. I knew my stuff, so I just had to act busy for a moment until he moved on to the less skilled trainees.

With all that distraction going on, I was surprised to hear Vuembi announcing that he would dismiss class for a few minutes. And that we'd have to wear dresses.

Ibira tried to come with us to get measured, but Vuembi told her to stay put.

"I wish they'd make a...uniform for you," I told her with a grin. "You'd look _hot_."

She blushed. "You think so?"

I nodded. "You were hot in that PODS outfit. I think this might be a good look."

"Perhaps I shall request one, then."

I shrugged. "You don't have to do it just for me."

Ibira grinned. "Then I'll _definitely_ ask for one."

I thought about asking her about the marriage, but I didn't want to talk about the subject in a place where I'd be overheard.

I stepped outside, and let Osmifa get my measurements.

"Would you like me to customize your outfit?" she asked in a low tone. "I mean, you all have to wear the same _type_ of uniform, but you have the option to add embellishments, patches, or pick a different color, if you want."

I frowned. "I want pants. Can I wear pants with these things?"

She chuckled. "You're really not supposed to, but if you want leggings or nylons or tights, I can get them for you."

"That's okay," I groaned. "What exactly can I customize?"

Osmifa showed me a catalog of uniform dresses on her little computer. Some were black, some had stripes running up the sides, they even had a cheetah print.

I scratched my head. "Why didn't you suggest this to me the last time I got fitted?"

"Last time," she said. "I asked you if you ever wore a dress, or wanted to wear a dress, and you said no. So I didn't bother. Now I know for a fact you have frequently worn them. See anything you like?"

"How about that black one?" I said.

She chuckled, clicking a button on the screen. "I'll see if I have approval for that one. You might have to wear pink leggings or something. I'll let you know."

Swallowing, I said, "If I need the leggings, just get me the regular gray one."

Osmifa nodded. "Will do."

We returned to the class, studying alien currency. Since this still bothered me from time to time, I paid the lesson extra careful attention.

At long last our training class got dismissed for the day. I emptied my diaper in the bathroom with one of those drainage hoses, then marched on down to the cafeteria for dinner.

Vornok meat.

Again.

I resolved to find out more about this creature that we continually ate, and why it smelled like epoxy.

I set my tray down at a table and started eating.

A second later, I was joined by my `fiancee', bearing her food and drink, her fourth hand self consciously straightening her leather harness.

"Mind if I sit here?"

"Sure," I said.

She did a silent alien prayer, then sliced her Vornok meat.

"So," I said. "When did we get married?"

"Oh?" she said, taking a bite. "The moment you stuck your tongue in my mouth, I believe."

We played spin the bottle, and that never happened. Why this was different, I did not know. "I...um..."

"Qozisa females propose to the male. I am sorry. I did not know you were unaware of this. Osmifa said you always intended to marry me, so I thought you wouldn't mind...You _did_ agree, before a classroom full of witnesses..."

I scrunched up my face. "I..._I suppose it's only right_. But you don't seem to understand that my..._stuff _can kill you." 

"_Semen_," she said. "You can say it."

I blushed furiously. "I'm sorry. This is just...I can't. I can't lose you. Not again."

"I'm not saying we have to have sex immediately. Perhaps if we just...get married, and wait, someone will develop a cure to..._our little problem_."

"That's like waiting for a cure to AIDS," I said. "There's no way you can cure that."

"There's always hope," she said.

I shook my head. "Did I miss anything from coming in late to class?"

I should have known the answer to this, but I had forgotten.

"Rolmub policies on Kahico Reeheb and Sniawud, mostly. They say it's similar to earth. Fair lending, harassment legislature, that sort of thing. It's in the packet."

"Cool," I said.

We fell silent for a few moments.

"So," I said. "I met your dad. In the future. He was really...scary."

She giggled. "That he is."

"Especially since you were dead, and I was to blame."

"I'm surprised he didn't kill you."

"Me too," I said.

"So..." she purred. "As soon as you finish eating, we can go downstairs into the caves, and tie the knot."

"What?" I cried in alarm. "Now?"

She nodded. "I imagine they've become quite impatient by now, waiting for us."

"Wait. What?" I said. "_Who_ is waiting for us?"

"_Your Christian friends_. Who else?"

"But you're not even a Christian," I blurted.

"I wasn't," she said. "But I've been talking to Osmifa, and, well, if I'm going to die anyway, I might as well get things in order."

She cleared her throat. "So."

She gestured to the entrance.

I stared at her in horror. "Oh Lord."


	103. Chapter 104: The Green Bride

A time traveler sometimes finds himself faced with certain unique moral dilemmas. For example, is it considered bigamy if you are married to someone in the future, but then travel back in time and marry someone else?

Also, is a person guilty of the sin of fornication if they travel back in time to the point before the act of fornication and get married first?

What exactly did Ibira expect from this anyway? Did she have a death wish? Why even bother marrying when `til death do us part' is a week from the wedding night?...I suppose if you were in Victorian England or the old west, when they didn't survive childbirth...

I hadn't brought any dress clothes. Even my nice black dress wasn't available yet.

And so I just took the diaper out of my pants and marched down to the chapel cave in my business casuals.

Awkward. Very awkward. All the churchgoers were present, Osmifa, the mind readers, and a group of people I only remembered as corpses. Sigma, of course, was there, and, well, more people than I was comfortable with.

Victor, Grace, Gary, Brian, and some of the classmates Ibira had made the announcement to.

I'm not sure what was more embarrassing, me not wearing a tux, and not having family present (okay, so maybe that's the non embarrassing part) or Ibira only wearing a harness and loincloth.

Music was provided by an alien holographic band. Whether it were live or Memorex was anyone's guess. It _seemed_ live. They sang religious wedding songs, which I found odd but comforting.

The sermonette, the words of institution, and the vows were on point, impressing me the seriousness of the rite. I took it serious before, especially with the baby, but now I had witnesses, and a solemn oath before God.

Naturally, I did not have a ring, but neither did Ibira.

That being said, she _did_ have an enduring symbol of betrothal to bestow. A sort of branding iron had been heating in a nearby fire.

We each bit down on a stick as Osmifa pressed the brand against our necks. I screamed through my teeth as the hot iron burned my flesh, but Ibira appeared to enjoy it.

Once branded, we kissed like any good newly married couple.

Well, not quite, as she had me trapped in her tusks, and four arms grabbed me around the waist and buttocks simultaneously.

They threw rice, we cut a rather basic sort of cake, white with vanilla frosting, no tiers, dolls or anything, and then we had sort of a dance to pre-recorded music.

So...in my previous timeline, I would have been _playing catch_...

I couldn't say for certain if this was better. I _do_ think not having my pants ripped off by strange alien rodents was a plus.

I and Ibira held hands, strolling upstairs to Hydroponics.

She checked an electronic gadget attached to her harness, then laughed. "For a moment, I forgot that we had a time exemption for qualified religious observance."

It suddenly occurred to me that we had only dismissed for lunch, and we were expected to continue training. In theory, at least.

"Wow," I said. I forgot all about that. Training class, I mean."

"Yes," she purred as she wrapped an arm around my waist. "It _is_ a lot to take in, isn't it?"

I glanced at the garden. "So you don't worship those gods and goddesses anymore?"

She shook her head. "None of my gods would ever be able to reverse time to make me fall in love with a man twice, maybe three times in a row. I think you have me beat."

I swallowed hard. "I suppose it is." I would have said, "That's a weird way of thinking about it," but I didn't want to offend.

And then I thought about it for a moment. "Three times?"

"Osmifa told me this may not have been the first time you've gone through this particular journey. That would make this the third time we've met, for the first time."

"I suppose it would," I said.

"So," she said. "I'm assuming you know something about the lesson they're going over right now?"

"Currency exchanges, I think. And more computer training."

She chuckled. "Sounds like I didn't miss anything. I did the same exact thing at my last job."

"PODS?" I asked.

She shook her head. "Encore."

I frowned. "It seems like everybody used to work for Encore."

Ibira shrugged. "Pretty much."

We wandered down the rows of corn and oats.

"Have you been in here?" she said.

I replied, "A few times."

She pointed to the little creatures tending the plants. "Then I suppose you are familiar with the Ishuca."

"Great guys," I said. "I wonder if they would want to visit our church some time?"

One of them laughed at us. "Now here is a pairing I've never seen before! A Qozisa and a human! Love is a strange thing."

"Yes it is," I said. "It sure is."

Ibira grinned. It definitely helped to know my audience.

Without preamble or polite framing, she casually blurted, "Are you particularly adverse to providing me with a sperm sample?"

I blushed. "Like, literally? Like ejaculating into a cup?"

She nodded.

My blush turned deeper. "I don't think fertilizing yourself like that will it make it any less deadly to you."

Ibira touched her scar. "There was a reason I did this. Because I had hope for a cure. If you really love me, _husband_, then you will do this for me."

I nodded. "Gladly."

Then I frowned. "But...how do you want me to do this?"

She stared at me in puzzlement.

"Do you want me to get a coffee mug, or...?"

Ibira laughed. "No, no. Go down and see Sal. I've already spoken to her about it."

I swallowed. "You have?"

She gave me a nod.

"All right," I said in a hesitant tone. "But this is really, really embarrassing."

"Jason. Wouldn't you willingly risk embarrassment, if it meant saving someone else's life?"

"Yeah," I said. "You're right."

Sighing, I turned to face the door. "Uh, be back in a few minutes. I guess."

Ibira grinned. "It sounds like, once we find the cure, we may need to work on lengthening your performance time."

Feeling hot around the ears, I muttered something in agreement, but the words didn't escape my lips.

I nodded bashfully to her, making my first uncomfortable steps toward the exit.


	104. Chapter 105: Chromosomes

My face was getting more and more hot the closer I came to the medical bay.

Just the idea of doing this...in a medical setting...

Mind you, I've never done anything like a sperm bank before. The whole idea seemed a little wrong and weird to me.

I knew how to get there, and it wasn't that long of a walk.

Thankfully, I didn't get attacked. I was so distracted by..._other things_ that I didn't give it much thought. I assumed that Mr. Jennings was still alive, and out to get me, but I guess the fact I didn't know anything about his next attack, and had just gotten married, distracted me from the problem.

Soon, I was in the little hospital, facing that perky red haired elf, her cheer so far lacking the taint of her boyfriend's pending death.

She grinned at me. "Hello. How can I help you?"

I blushed. "Ibira said she spoke to you."

She acted like she had done no such thing. "_She did?_"

The purple salamander thing snorted in amusement.

Frowning, I said, "She didn't...mention anything about...chromosomes?"

Sal furrowed her brow, pursing her lip. "I'm sorry. I'm not quite sure I follow..."

With a groan, I said, "Look. Ibira and I just got married, and we want to make sure my sperm doesn't kill her, so she told me to go down here and give you a sample, so we can find some kind of _cure_, some kind of healthy way for us to have babies."

Sal burst out laughing. "Just teasing. I already knew what you were coming to see me for. I just wanted to hear you try to say it."

My ears felt like they were burning. "_All right_, but this is serious. If you put my stuff in a petri dish with her cells in it, you'll see how serious and deadly it is."

Sal frowned. "She _did_ say it may be fatal."

"_AIDS fatal_," I agreed.

She handed me a plastic cup from a cabinet. "Here. Go into the bathroom and..._do your thing._ Do you need a magazine or something?"

"What?" I said. "No fancy gadgets?"

"Like a DVD?" she asked.

"No," I stammered. "I mean, like you had for the urine test."

"This isn't Sajon Dopa 5, where they rig you up like a stud horse with a padded rubber tube."

I winced. "Remind me to never go there."

She pointed to the bathroom. "I already have your wife's cells in the freezer. The sooner you're done, the sooner we can get to work."

Well, it wasn't like I hadn't had any practice. And I really didn't need a magazine when I had memories that were way better.

It occurred to me that Ibira could have maybe facilitated this process, but I guess we wouldn't have gotten any in the cup.

"Is that all?" Sal asked me when I handed her the sample.

"Seriously?" I said. "You want me to do it some more?"

She snorted through her nose, rolling her eyes. "You have absolutely no sense of humor."

I sighed.

"If we need more, we'll let you know."

She glanced at my facial expression and chortled. "Don't act like it's such a chore. You're a guy. I'm sure you do it all the time."

"You have no tact," I said.

"Hey. I'm a doctor. It comes with the territory."

Well, that was that.

I returned to garden, where I found Ibira sitting cross legged on a patch of dirt, meditating, I suppose.

"Did you do it?"

My face flushed hot again. "Yeah. A little awkward, but I...yeah."

Ibira chuckled. "Good. I imagine this may take some time, but I will let you know if there's any progress."

She sighed. "You are a good man. I am happy to bear your ritual scarification."

I nodded. "Me too."

An Ishuca popped out from the dirt behind her. "This is your husband, Ibira?"

"Yes," she said with a smile. "He is not a model male specimen, but he is quite handsome, don't you think?"

"He lacks tentacles," the creature said. "And he is a little too large."

"Yes," she said. "Perhaps that is why it is better that I married him than you. I find him very sexy."

The creature shrugged, offering me a baseball. "Would you like to have this?"

I supposed, no matter what happened in this timeline, Mr. Ishuca only had one person to hand the baseball to.

"Okay," I said. "I'll try not to throw it around here, where things can break."

"You sure?" the creature joked. "We could use an extra gardener."

I waved my hands dismissively. "I'm cool."

I'm not positive, but I think the Ishuca looked impressed that I understood. So did Ibira.

"If you see Robert, tell him the watermelons look great."

"Will do," I said.

I think that floored them, too. The fact that I knew about Robert and his sleepwalking probably shouldn't be common knowledge.

Ibira dusted herself off, leading me through the rice paddies.

"Have you ever been a host to a xotroc?" I asked her.

She chuckled a little. "Once. When I was very young. Why?"

"So I guess they cured it," I said.

Ibira shrugged both sets of shoulders. "I think the Ishuca died. Or perhaps I got out of range and it no longer affected me."

I frowned. "I see."

We had some free time to kill, so I decided playing catch would be as good as anything for occupying those moments..._until we found that cure_.

After throwing and catching the ball for a few minutes, something happened, and it bounced off the door frame of a nearby room, rolling inside.

The room looked familiar. Too familiar.

The ball had landed right next to the shiny red door. In fact, it appeared to have bounced off of it. I might as well have knocked.

Still, I had faced worse threats, so I crept through the room like a catburglar trying to steal a diamond from a museum.

I knelt down before the ball, leaning backwards as I carefully extended one hand.

The moment I touched the ball, the door swung open, and three lingerie clad alien rodents appeared, the closest one clamping her hand down on mine with a giggle.

I froze, mentally preparing for the worst.

Her other hand reached up, grabbing my collar.

And then, all of a sudden, I was struck with a flash of recognition. The aqua colored hair. The red-yellow beak. The fetish for leather.

She babysat Haman.

"Mackelle?"

The creature flinched in surprise. "You know my name!"

But then she relaxed somewhat, smiling at me. "Who told? I believe _someone_ deserves a referral credit."

She pulled me closer, breathing down my neck, ready to peck me with her beak or something, I suppose. "No matter. I suppose we'll have to make _those_ arrangements later, won't we?"

And then she starts unbuckling my belt.

"I'm taken," she said.

She touched my scars. "_I see._"

She frowned. "If you don't want _what I have to offer_, how do you know my name?"

"You babysat my child."

She burst out laughing, but her mirth vanished when she saw my serious expression. "I have never babysat any of your children. I would remember if I did!"

I shook my head. "I guess you forgot."

Her eyes widened in surprise. "Wait! You're speaking my language and you don't have anything in your ear!"

Just another perk of being a time traveler, I thought. "I'm a quick study."

I supposed I must have picked up the language by listening and saying things through the alien earwig, as incredible as it sounds.

She recoiled in terror. "Get away from me! And take that horrible ball with you!"

The door slammed shut.

"Entertaining yourself?" Ibira said behind me.

"_More or less,_" I muttered. "Remind me to never ask for Makelle when we need babysitting services."

She wrapped her arms around me, resting her head on my shoulder. "I love a man who plans ahead."

I offered her the ball.

As we tossed it back and forth down the hallway, Ibira said, "My team is going out in the field soon. We're trying to restore the U.S. Bank building back to working order. I was wondering if you wanted to join us."

"Why wouldn't I?" I said. "You're my wife. I want to go _everywhere_ with you."

She grinned. "I'll tell Victor immediately."

We played catch for a few more moments, then kissed goodnight. It was nice to think that what we were doing was more or less perfectly acceptable in a moral sense.

"Good night."

And so I returned to my sleeping quarters.

With a bashful grin, I left her, returning to crew quarters.

My sleepwalking problems were gone, and have been gone ever since Ibira blew away that weird Tamtiwa kid that used to control my life.

That being said, I found myself unable to sleep due to a completely different reason.

When I entered the room, the lights had been off. I made it to my bunk by way of feel, and the faint light that came from the doorway.

I crawled into the empty bottom bunk below Rick, closing my eyes for a few moments, but I didn't get to rest that much.

Just as I was entering REM sleep, I heard a loud buzzing next to my face.

I groggily opened my eyes, then flinched as I saw a glowing wasp darting around my nose.

Glancing around, I saw the room was _filled_ with a sea of glowing blue wasps, like a nest had been placed below my bed.

"All right, everybody!" Snake yelled from the top of the bed across from me. "Everybody! Wake up, but do not move! Remain perfectly still! The stings from this insect have a hundred percent fatality rate! Stay sharp, stay cool!"

"Jesus!" Rick cried from the top bunk. "It's right on my face!"

"Do not move, Mr. Kuchinski! You do not, I repeat, _do not_ want to move, under any circumstances!"

And then one of the insects landed on my nose.


	105. Chapter 106: Quick Study

We were going to die. I was sure of it.

Deadly glowing wasps with one hundred fatality rates, if Snake was to be believed.

"Mr. Finch," Snake called from the other bunk. "Is there something you _need_ to tell me? Like, I don't know, _anything_. Like why the fuck every time I see you, something's always popping out of nowhere and trying to kill us?"

"Let's just say I pissed off the guy that runs this planet," I said.

"Maybe we should throw you outside," said Rick.

"Not without a Bazrok," I said.

"You should have thought about that before you put these wasps in our room!"

Ignoring him, I said, "So what do we do?"

"I've heard they can be soothed by music," said a fat guy on another bed. "Anyone got a phone handy?"

"I'm not sure these _bugs_ will like my ringtone," Snake muttered.

"I've heard about one guy who repelled them by playing the Fugs' Hare Krishna song on loop."

"Hell," said Snake. "That'll drive _me_ out of the room!"

"Really? Because they've done worse songs. _Knock, Knock, Knock, Aphrodite Mass, Chicago, The Belle of Avenue A..._"

"Man, _I don't care_! Just fucking play something so we can get out of here and fumigate."

"Speaking of which," I said. "Couldn't someone just speed dial the main office or something?"

"You're just going to get voicemail. You need radio to actually get someone in a hurry."

Snake paused. "Hold on. Let me see if I can get the radio without stinging my ass."

Suddenly I heard the Hare Krishna song. The music did not seem to affect the bugs at all.

"Well there goes _that_ theory," I said.

"I think these hornets are more of the annihilationist type," Rick joked.

"I don't know if I should be happy or scared that you have that on your phone," Snake said.

"It's only an emergency precaution," said the fat guy. "It's really not my thing."

"_Sure it isn't_," Rick mocked. "I've _seen you_ in that orange robe before."

"You really need to stop smoking jungle plants, Rick."

The music kept playing over and over.

Snake pushed something in his pocket, and I heard a chirp.

"Yo! Hey! A little help please!" he shouted.

"What's wrong?" I heard Victor's muffled voice saying.

"Will you get an exterminator down here?" Snake said in an outraged tone. "Bunch of blue glowing wasps! Might potentially kill us!"

"How'd they get in?"

"Shit, man!_ I don't know! _Finch pissed off someone he shouldn't have. That's all I can tell you!"

There was a static filled pause.

I thought I heard Victor mumble something, but it was drowned out by the Fugs' ringtone.

"Man, will you shut that shit off!" Snake shouted. "I can't hear myself think!"

The music stopped.

At last, after a long period of silent crackling, Victor said, "I'll try to get someone. Be over there ASAP."

"These things taste like paper the fat guy muttered."

"Oh my God!" Snake cried. "Don't eat the damn things! What the hell is wrong with you!"

"My tongue can extend three feet. I regularly eat flies, cockroaches and non-poisonous mud daubers, bees and hornets."

"Better you than me," Snake laughed. "You'd better pray to God it doesn't kill you."

"What the hell do you think I'm doing?"

I watched with amazement as the guy opened his mouth, flashed out his frog's tongue, and sucked down several wasps in a matter of seconds.

We thought we were doing good until the guy suddenly choked and fell off his bunk.

The swarm went after him, stinging his body over and over.

"Doug!" Rick cried.

A second later, I see a squatty female figure standing in the doorway with a large silver can.

"Everyone hold your breath!" she yelled, and then a foul smelling gray fog wafted into the room, dropping the wasps on contact.

The moment I saw the ones around my bed disappear, I jumped out, dashing into the hallway.

"Trashy, you are a livesaver!" Snake said as he hurried out after me.

I was about to leave, but the guy grabbed my arm. "Unless you want to go into toxic shock, you'd best get down to the medical lab and be checked out for poisoning...or stings."

"Doug!" Trashy called as she stepped into the room. "Oh no..."

Rick and Trashy dragged the man out into the hallway.

I watched the two carry him down to the medical bay, placing him on one of the beds.

Sal busied herself with pumping various drugs and chemicals into him, in attempts to reverse the toxin, but she seemed to be doing it halfheartedly, like she already knew it was too late.

In the meantime, the purple lizard made each of us breathe into a device, then, after he examined it for a few moments, gave us each a pill, and in the case of a couple of guys from the back of the room, were given oxygen.

One of the guys, named Leroy Santiago, was pronounced dead from the stings, and we would have a funeral soon.

"We're still working on your cure," the reptile said to me.

"That's cool," I said. "No hurry, I guess."

"I wish you the best of luck. Ibira has been very irritable as of late. I really think a man like you, that loves her for who she is, will...be good for her."

I think he meant to say something about forcing her to settle down, but didn't want to say it.

Since I was fine, I left there, deciding it best to curl up on the sofa in the break room upstairs.

Of course I didn't wake up in time for my breakfast or lesson or anything. I staggered downstairs, took a shower, then found myself in an empty cafeteria with all the food put away.

I marched up to Osmifa, who was cleaning dishes in back, explaining my predicament.

She checked her watch, then dug behind the counter, handing me one of those metal flasks we use for soda pop. "This is a meal replacement shake. You don't look like the type that needs to go on a diet, so this is a regular."

Thanking her, I cracked it open and drank it on the way to my class.

It was a good thing I guzzled it, for when I brought the remaining one eighth of the container into the classroom, Vuembi took it away.

He was unhappy that I missed so much, but I explained my situation and said I knew a fair bit about what he taught in class anyway.

"I hope for your sake you're right, Mr. Finch," he said. And I was let into class, as usual.

I missed the lecture on alien species, but that one was rather unimportant, because you familiarized yourself with them the moment you got on the phone.

Ibira winked at me as I came in, gesturing for me to sit next to her.

I motioned at Vuembi, nonverbally saying "I can't, he told me to sit here," but she shrugged and touched her scar. In other words, "I'm your wife. What can he say?"

She persuaded a girl with a spotty face to move over, waving me to the empty chair.

I decided it was best to do this sort of thing fast, so I hurried over and seated myself, logging into the computer and pulling up lesson materials as fast as possible.

We were learning corporate policy. Lots of dry, boring stuff, except for the part about slavery still being practiced on other planets. Ibira put her arm around me, like we were a couple in a movie theater, and I was the girl.

Mr. Stewart complained about how useless the information was, like before. While Vuembi was rebuking him, Ibira leaned close and muttered, "He'll see how useless that information is in a couple days."

I chuckled, though I probably wouldn't have gotten the joke if I hadn't traveled back in time.

We got some paperwork, then we did a computer module.

Ibira's arm remained around my shoulder. No one cared because she still had two hands free to work the computer.

When we came to the language lesson, Ibira's hand slid to my waist. I didn't mind that much, even when she occasionally grabbed my butt.

"How many of you are familiar with the Jandax?" the instructor asked.

I raised my hand. Ibira raised the hand opposite the one sliding into my pants.

"Mr. Finch?" Vuembi said with a look of disgust. "Please explain."

I cleared my throat. "It's a creature. It goes in your ear, and it helps you speak languages. It also hurts like hell, so make sure you ask for anesthetics."

Vuembi nodded. "That's essentially correct." But then he frowned at me as he examined my ear. "How do you know all this, when you don't even have one?"

I opened my mouth to make up an excuse, but Ibira spoke first. "Layoffs. He had one, then they had it surgically removed."

The instructor nodded thoughtfully. "Ah. That explains it."

And then Victor brought out the creature, with his gloves and goggles, trying to stick it in my ear.

I held up a hand to block him, clearing my throat. "Anesthetics!"

The little guy laughed and shook his head. "Shit! _It's a good thing you reminded me_!"

He took out one of those long needles like they use at dentist's offices, jabbing it in my ear. It hurt like hell, but it wasn't nearly as painful as the creature, and the numbing agent soon spread far enough around the area that I discovered my ear was asleep and I couldn't hear anything on that side.

The creature bored its way in, which felt more like a carpenter building a ship inside my ear canal rather than an alien beast burrowing into a sensitive auditory passage.

Victor tested the creature by saying, "Snaa pleihua? Chicelinhua?"

"Yeah," I said, rolling my eyes. "I understand you."

Of course, I couldn't really tell if it were the creature, or just me remembering what they had said last time when I had the creature in my ear.

Vuembi asked me something similar, and I answered in the affirmative.

"It's good," said Victor. He moved on to the other students.

Noticing me scratching, Vuembi said, "If it bothers you, there are salves in the med lab."

I nodded.

We got our new employee names next. Like before, I was to be called `Beota.' They gave us our work information, and we put on our scary headphones with the little creatures inside.

And then, my `first call'. Again.

Mr. Glowing Jellyfish.

I treated the nonhuman `thing' with professionalism and respect, activating his special card with the courtesy you'd give any human being. It came second nature, after all the crap I went through the first time.

When the call ended, Vuembi clapped in approval. "That was wonderful, Jason! I didn't have to correct you once! It seems you _must have_ worked in a place like this before! Nice work!"

I smiled a little. "Uh, _thanks_."

"I'm going to watch you do a couple more, and if your next calls are as impressive as this one, I might just _move you out on the floor to do the real thing_!"

I stared at him in shock. "..._Great!_"

Ibira smirked at me, then turned her attention to her own activation call.

I did okay on my next ones, since I knew what to expect already, so the instructor called someone to take over the class, and he gestured for me to leave the room with him.

Feeling awkward and embarrassed about his overestimation of my abilities, I nervously crept after him, out into the hall.

This had never happened before. I found it more than probable that I'd encounter something new and unexpected, something I wouldn't be able to handle, and then I'd be in an unfamiliar timeline, one where I could only make guesses and hope I was doing the right thing.

I told myself that this was how it was supposed to be, that it was going back to normal, but the normal made me nervous.

After a short walk, we were in the little `call center' I'd spent so much time working in.

Instead of leading me to my booth, he took me to a different one, activating a program I'd seen Dennis using to review my calls, except this one didn't show me anything.

"Stay here," Vuembi said, typing something in the program. "I'm going to field a few calls, and I just want you to watch and learn from what I do."

And then he closes the door, leaving me to sit on the bench, waiting for something to happen.

A few minutes later, I see a holographic version of Vuembi stepping in front of a console, opening up the communication system.

What followed was your run of the mill call. Retail sales with an alien. Big deal. I stared at him, heavy lidded, not exactly thrilled by the demonstration.

Then, all of a sudden, I see the door to Vuembi's drum sliding open, and in marches a bony black man with a shaved head, clad in one of those ridiculous uniform dresses. I don't recognize him, either from walking the halls as an employee, or after the spores kill everyone. I'm not sure where he came from.

In seconds, he has a knife out, stabbing Vuembi in the back. The alien collapses on his computer.

His customer, a sort of monkey with scales and a snake's head, begins to clap. I guess he was under the impression that this was performance art.

Before I could do anything about this grisly scene, the door to my booth slides open, and I'm being yanked out to the floor by my shirt collar.

The guy's build was slight and womanly, but when he hit me in the head, I thought I was being attacked by a heavyweight boxer.

"How's that, you little fucker?" he says in the voice of Mr. Jennings. "Like that?"

A couple knocks to the sides of my head, and I was out cold.


	106. Chapter 107: Goblins

I awoke to someone punching my face.

"All right, asshole, wakey wakey!"

Then I felt a slap.

My eyes focused, and I found myself staring into a brown girly looking face. Male.

I was in a cave, in an unknown location, and, as I tried to escape, I discovered I had been tied to a chair.

"Shit," I groaned.

"Yeah," my kidnapper laughed. "You're neck deep in it."

He put his hands on his knees, glaring at me. "You know, I've been taking an inventory of all the things in life that fucking piss me off..."

"So you're an optimist," I joked.

The man slugged me in the stomach.

"Before you so rudely interrupted me, I made a list, and guess who's on the very top?"

The `goddess' had chosen a pitiful vessel to attack me. My dad could hit a lot harder, so I found these threats of physical violence amusing.

"You're right," I said. "I never liked their music."

He didn't get the joke. "What?"

"I'd explain, but I'd first have to tell you who's on first."

He grabbed me by the throat. "You know what you are? A _no good pile of shit_! Every fucking time I try to preserve this planet from ecological disaster, here you are, fucking with my plans!"

"Who the hell are you?" I said.

The guy backhanded me across the face. "Who the fuck do you think!"

"Uh, Leroy Jenkins?"

He hit me again. "It's Jennings, asshole! Marvin Jennings!"

"Oh," I said. "I'm sorry,_ Melvin._"

This inspired more abuse. "What is this, `thank you sir, may I have another'?"

"No," I said, trying hard not to laugh.

"Are you stupid, asshole?"

I snorted, took a deep breath. "Ahem. Tell me, Mr. Jennings, where did you come from? Why is it that you live on this hell hole jungle planet? What makes a man set up a little cave next to a quarry and stock up a lifetime supply of toilet paper and Top Ramen?"

The man yelled and kicked me so hard that the chair fell over backwards and I hit my head on the rock floor. I saw stars.

"You want the straight dope, motherfucker? I built this damn planet from scratch! It's a fucking terraforming operation. Every fucking lifeform on this whole motherfucking planet is my creation!"

He stomped on my chest, which, unfortunately for me, made it difficult to avoid looking up his skirt.

"Designer genetics! I designed the trees. I designed the Na'vi, _the Tamtiwa_. I designed the plants, the _fungus_, that shitty little Ikran you keep fucking with! All of it! This place used to be a lifeless rock! _I_ put life into it! But your piddly assed corporation wants to turn this garden of Eden, this paradise, back into a dusty piece of shit worthless rock of a planet."

He kicked me in the head.

"It's your fault, motherfucker! I had this situation under control! If you hadn't been fucking your girlfriend in my office building, if you hadn't been there, screwing with my Ikran's brain, getting your dirty hummers and that fucking tank back, if you hadn't _gone back in time and blew my shit up_, we wouldn't be having this conversation!"

I was starting to hurt, but only by cumulative effect.

"Where did you get the tools to do all this?" I asked.

"I'm from the future, dumbass. There are corporations that sponsor me. Or rather, _did_, before I killed them."

"Wow," I said. "I guess that explains why everything on this planet seems intent on killing me."

He knelt down on my chest. "That's the smartest thing you've ever said, Finch."

He stood up, again offering me that unsightly vantage point where I could see the color of his underwear.

"Tell you what, Finch," the man said. "You're a little too stupid to be doing this alone, so I'm going to let bygones be bygones if you just do one little thing for me. Just one, teensy, tiny thing."

"Their names are Sapphire and Steel," I said. "I don't know how to find them. I don't know their last names or where they came from."

"No, no, Finch. I already guessed that they were too smart to tell you that. I want _something else._"

I frowned at him, hoping he didn't mean something sexual.

Instead, he said, "I want you to call me _goddess_. I want you to say to me, `Mr. Jennings, I was wrong about taking over your planet with my polluting environmentally destroying office buildings. I sincerely apologize for that, and I worship you as a goddess, ruler of the universe.' Got it?"

He smiled. 'Now you."

Instead I told him, "Mr. Jennings, I was right about polluting your planet, because you're an asshole."

He punched me in the face. He really looked pissed.

"Let's try this again. Mr. Jennings..."

"I'm sorry, I was wrong about taking over the planet with polluting office buildings. I still think you're an asshole and I will never call you a god or goddess."

He punched me.

"What's the deal, Finch? Like broken teeth?"

"No," I said. "It's just kind of hard to worship a god that buys Pepto Bismol and toilet paper in bulk. Having tummy problems?"

He hit me in the temple, making my head ring.

"Those were for my employees."

"Sure they were!"

And he hit me again, knocking my teeth in.

"There. Take that to the tooth fairy, asshole!"

"Oh, I thought that was your job. You've already look the part!"

He started choking me. Let's see how you like turning blue, you son of a bitch!"

"I didn't know you were hiring," I gasped.

"The fuck! I only started choking you, and you're already brain dead? Shit , I thought you _liked_ living."

"I've been on two planets now," I wheezed. "Both of them suck. But at least on this one, I can die with the satisfaction of telling its creator to his face that he did a shit job, and I never wanted to set foot in this hell hole in the first place."

"So you're fucked up in the head and you want to die? Is that it?"

I shrugged.

He rolled me over and kicked me.

"Sorry, bitch. I don't do requests!"

And he stomped away.

I laid on the floor for a long time, scarcely believing what had just happened. Was the man so twisted with thoughts of revenge that he would deny himself the satisfaction of killing me just to make me miserable?

If I knew that earlier, I would have tried a similar tact a lot earlier.

Being alive was great and all, but it left me one sticky problem. I was still tied up, and the ropes were cutting off my circulation.

I wiggled my fingers around, trying to tug at the knots, but they were pretty secure and out of reach.

"Help?" I cried. "Anybody?"

Nobody answered.

My second strategy worked better than the first. Being fairly limber, I could play inchworm rather well, and the cavern was full of bumpy rocks.

It took what felt like an hour, but I eventually scraped the ropes thin enough that I could snap them off and stumble to my feet.

I staggered aimlessly from tunnel to tunnel, calling for help, but found nobody.

I soon tired and just sat down on a rock, puzzling over which place to go next.

About ten minutes later, I see a glowing creature floating out of a cave tunnel, followed by a hairy five foot goblin with a pink humanoid crocodile face, large pig ears, and a purse. It looked like a character from a Mercer Mayer book.

I was completely `tolerant' at this point, so I thought nothing of its appearance.

"Hello?" I said. "Can you help me?"

The creature answered with a string of guttural syllables I couldn't decipher, even with my earworm.

"Um, sir, ma'am? I...I'm lost. Can you show me to the DOGOS facility?"

"Mawrl rebruma!" it answered cheerfully.

I decided, for lack of anything better to do, to follow this thing, and see if it could lead me anywhere I wanted to go. It was more fun than working, and, you know, the kid in _Karate Kid_ would have made friends with Mr. Miyagi a lot sooner if he were a little more open minded from the beginning, and just hung out with him.

Maybe these guys could teach me the way of the Force or something, I thought.

I ended up helping the thing pick some disgusting slimy fungus off the wall and put it in baskets, then sitting by an underground lake while the creature swam around and caught fish that had dangling tapeworm things coming out of their bodies.

I put the fish in the basket as well, but only after the goblin yelled at me for being squeamish.

The goblin lived in a little commune in one of the caverns. When I brought them the basket, they all got together, held hands, and sang a song, which they compelled me to join, despite me not knowing or understanding the words.

They ate their food on a big flat rock. They offered me some of the fruit of my labors, but I refused. The smell was repulsive, like mildew, rotten bagels, and the unidentifiable food and cleaning chemical smell that greets you when you step into a Salvation Army.

After this terrible food, instead of taking me back, they led me into a little cave, which appeared to be a dwelling for someone, complete with dresser and table, offering me a rock shelf, which I presumed to be a bed.

Hoping they'd show me the way out tomorrow, I laid down on one of them.

One of the monsters came in with its glowing creature, spreading out on the rock on the other side of the room.

"Gamblikka?" it said.

I just sighed, not understanding a word.

It pointed at itself. "Berba Yuimmase."

It pointed at me. "Noogah?"

"Jason Finch," I said.

"Ah," the creature purred with a grin. "Chasing bitch!"

"No, no," I said. "You said that wrong."

"Moob hula, Chasing Bitch."

I groaned and shook my head, rolling over.

The floating creature settled on the table and stopped lighting the room.

I slept for maybe an hour, but that was kind of impressive, considering the hard surface and the cold cave.

"This is very cute," said a familiar voice in the dark.

"Ibira?" I groaned.

I heard a click, then a green four armed body was crouching next to me with an electric lamp.

"Yes, my husband. I am here."

"Now, when you say cute, do you mean _cute cute_, or sexy?"

She shrugged. "I like a man who isn't afraid to embrace the simple lifestyle."

I laughed. "I'm glad it pleases you. Really, I was just trying to get back to the building."

I told her about my abduction and beating and getting lost.

"That is unfortunate," she said. "But I admire your bravery."

One of my teeth had loosened. I still thought I had a chance to save it, but she wiggled it and pulled it out.

"Why did you do that for?" I said.

"Scars are your mark as a warrior. If you gain them in battle, I see no need for you to cover them with plastic surgery or dental operations. I find them..._appealing._"

I decided not to disagree with her. If she can accept me all beat up and deformed, I thought, she's definitely a keeper.

Instead, I said, "Could you please show me out of this place?"

"You want to leave already?" she said. "I thought this would be a terrific honeymoon location."

"The beds are rock and they eat fungus," I said. "Not really a turn on."

She smirked like she had different ideas. "Suit yourself."

Ibira led me back into the NCO building with remarkable ease. It turns out the goblin things lived adjacent to the underground church, and a couple steps from there led us into familiar cinder block hallways.

"Vuembi's dead," I told her. "I saw-"

"I know," Ibira said. "There won't be a funeral. It's against his religion."

I sighed. "Oh."

"You're late for class," she said as we walked down a corridor. "They sent me to find you."

I sighed. "I'm pretty sure I know what I'm doing anyway. I just wish I could have breakfast."

She opened a pouch on her harness, handing me something that looked like a rice cake. "Here. Eat this."

Shrugging, I did so, munching it as I followed her to class.

It was like mustard and mushroom soup, with lumpy bits that tasted like cheese, but I ate the whole thing.

"Better?" she asked.

I couldn't deny I _did_ feel less hungry. "Yeah..."

"It's dried Qodmati semen."

I coughed, tried to gag the stuff back up, but it was already in my digestive system. "Oh God. Why didn't you tell me?"

She laughed. "What, and have you regurgitate it? How would that take the edge off your hunger?"

I sighed. "Uh, thanks, I guess." I paused. "Wait. How can you eat those with no ill effect, when my-"

"I'm only eating it, Jason. It's not like I'm sticking it up my cebsavah." She opened the door for me. "After you."

"You know," I said. "Men are generally supposed..."

"I know," she said. "But in our relationship, you're actually the weaker sex, so just enjoy it."

I got stares when I entered the classroom.

Of course, I stared back. They had found a replacement for Vuembi.

She was a short long haired black woman with glasses and a surly expression, about the same age as me. It always bothers me when I get bossed around by a peer.

The instructor glowered at me. "I hope you have an explanation for this, Mr. Finch!"

"I'm sorry," I said. "Who are you?"

"My name is Shirley Buggin. And you, Mr. Finch, are presumably in this classroom, interrupting it, because you want to learn how not to get fired."

"The thought _had_ crossed my mind," I muttered.

"He's had a traumatic life event," Ibira said. "The situation got out of hand."

I smiled, showing my missing teeth.

"Couldn't you at least wait for the honeymoon?" the stranger snapped.

"I'm afraid you misunderstand," said Ibira. "That wasn't my doing. You've all seen the recordings."

The woman stared at me for a moment.

"So you know me from the murder video," I said. "Terrific."

Shirley rolled her eyes. "That, your wedding pictures..._and your reputation_."

"I'm really not a troublemaker," I said. "Show me how to do my job. I'll do whatever you want."

The woman sighed and shook her head. "You can start by taking a seat and shutting up."

And so we went through another dull lecture on computer systems and alien business policies. We eventually got dismissed for lunch.

I ran into Victor the moment I stepped outside.

"C'mon, kid," he told me, tugging my arm. "We need to get something taken care of."

"Let me guess. I'm getting fitted with a Bazrok."

He stared at me in surprise. "Kid, I swear you're either psychic, or you've been lying on those job forms."

I had nothing to say about that.

Just like before, we went to the med lab, and I found that Na'vi-esque creature, Nobdar, working on Rick's beer bottle injury.

"Hello, Nobdar," Victor said. "Nice of you to show up!"

"I was observing Batlas."

"Out of curiosity," I said, "What _is_ Batlas?"

"It's a holiday," Nobdar said. "Similar to...Christmas, I believe."

"It's more like Thanksgiving_,_" Victor said. "With maybe a little Saint Patricks day thrown in. No gifts. There's nude prayer in there somewhere. I made the mistake of showing up at his room on the wrong day."

He glanced behind the curtain at Rick. "Was he partying with you?"

"That's..._not really my style._"

The midget giggled and made tsk noises. "Listen, my friend. We need to get this guy fitted with a Bazrok." He patted me on the back.

"Another one?"

"Is that a problem?"

"We just had it lay one a few minutes ago. It'll take it days, possibly weeks for it to make more. Are you sure you want to waste it on a new hire?"

"I don't want to risk a...seasoned employee on something like this."

"Yeah, yeah," I groaned. "I'm disposable."

Victor just nodded. "This nerd wasn't even supposed to be here. I figure we might as well throw him out there, maybe see if he's useful for something."

"Better make it count!"

Nobdar made me lay down on a rubber bed while I waited for him to bring out the Bazrok. I sighed as I watched Rick stumble out the door, all stitched up and bandaged and everything.

I wondered what time it was, but I decided I wouldn't get an answer.

"You might want to take off your clothes," Victor said. "This thing makes a mess."

He didn't have to tell me twice. I knew what I was getting into, so I stripped. Victor quickly looked away. He didn't say anything, so I guess it was okay.

I laid back on the bed, relaxing as much as I was able to. The anticipation was the worst part. Once the thing was actually on my chest and face, doing its thing, it wouldn't be such a big deal.

Sal strapped my ankles in leather cuffs. At this point, such things weren't necessary, they were just kinky.

"You don't need to use those," I said. "I've seen those things before."

She strapped down my wrists. "I'm not doing this for you. Our Bazrok is a very valuable specimen." And then she poked my ribs. "You should eat more. You have the figure of an emaciated girl."

"_Shut up!_" I muttered.

She just laughed.

The blue guy put the Bazrok on my chest. I laid perfectly still and let it drop its egg down my throat.

You know, there really is no time in when you can actually `get used' to nearly suffocating, but I managed.

"Gee," Sal said. "He really does act like he's done this before."

"I only detected one in his lungs," Nobdar said. "If he ingests more than one, it can cause serious medical problems."

"That's good to know," I gasped after they gave me a puff on a gas mask.

"He can breathe cyanide," Victor said. "We're done."

"Not quite," Nobdar said.

And then I had to lay in bed for a long time, waiting for the creature to adapt to oxygen.

Victor was playing Candy Crush, but he shut it off. "Oh good. You're done. You pretty much missed the whole class."

"Oh well," I said.

"You've definitely got some balls, kid. When I first had mine done, I was hollering and screaming the whole time."

Sal undid my restraints, declaring my vitals normal.

"Good," said the blue man.

The elf smiled at me. "Well, Mr. Finch, it looks like your implant is working! We've just successfully added a Bazrok to your lungs. In case you didn't know already-"

"I know, I know," I said. "It's a symbiote, so I have to eat for two."

She nodded. "Okay, so you're familiar with it. Good. If you start craving paper or chalk, come see me right away. That's usually a sign of nutrient deficiency, which I can remedy with a few nutrient packs.

"Unless, God forbid, it's about to give birth, but I seriously doubt yours will be at that stage for a number of years."

I paled. "They give birth?"

"I wouldn't worry about it," Victor said. "We have ways of detecting that months in advance."

"Kind of like real pregnancy?" I said.

"Yeah. Exactly like real pregnancy."

My stomach lurched. "You're not making me feel any better."

Victor only shrugged. "C'mon. Get dressed. We've got a job to do."

We went upstairs to the break room outside the Sprint call center, which was absent due to the space or dimensional travel.

I got a drink of water, then stopped to talk to Harry.

"Shortie's got you running errands outside, is he?"

"Yep."

Harry showed me the weird purple brown growth on his arm. "Got that on the Dagobah expedition."

"Is that fatal?" I asked.

"I'm not really sure. Sal has been researching a few things to try to help me. The meds she's given me have worked so far. Nobody can tell how much longer I have to live, though."

"I guess...you just got to make every minute count."

He patted me on the back. "Yeah. I guess that's what I got to do."

He drank from his bottle of homemade tea. "How you liking the marriage?"

"It's, uh, great," I said.

"Good. I guess it's kind of hard to go wrong with _three sets of hands around the house_."

I rolled my eyes, bidding him farewell.

The guys were outside in the field, huddled around a diagram in the dirt.

"What we need is a distraction." Steve was saying as he pointed to next to the hummer diagram. "Someone has to climb this ridge over here to break open our Eau de Ikran here."

I was familiar with the plan. And how it got screwed up. "I'm going to get volunteered for that particular duty anyway," I said. "So can someone tell me how to use that container without getting the shit all over me?"

There were chuckles.

"I'll give you a demo when we're done here," Victor said.

"Also," I said. "I am absolutely certain that Na'vi are preparing an ambush on that very spot. What are we going to do about that?"

Victor narrowed his eyes. "Kid, you're talking out your ass. You've only been breathing the air outside for a few minutes."

Ryan agreed with that assessment. "Jason _has_ always been a little strange."

"Wait, wait," the big guy in chain mail said. "Let's not discredit the guy so soon." He narrowed his eyes at me. "What makes you think there's going to be an ambush?"

I sighed. "I just have a hunch, okay? Maybe I'm psychic. I don't know. I just think that maybe we should be a little cautious, and not barge in there with our guns blazing."

"He's probably got a good idea. Even if there isn't anybody there, the Hummer is a big target. Especially with all those Ikran flying about."

Victor and Steve stared at each other.

"He has been saying weird things," Victor said. "A lot of people think he acts like he's worked here before, when he couldn't have possibly known anything about the company."

"All right," Steve said. "We'll work around the perimeter first. Shoot any Na'vi we sight, then drop the pheromone."

"Ready?" Snaker said.

"Let's do this thing," said Sam.

Snaker stood up, running around to the corner of the building.

"Ikran juice," I guessed.

"Exactly."

Everyone loaded up on weaponry, and I got the cleaning supplies and the silver ball. The team checked their cel phones for hostile life forms and GPS navigation.

Victor demonstrated how to unlock the sphere, showing me which side it could be safely thrown from. "If you drop it, or even jostle it a little, you're going to have Ikran juice all over you."

"Got it," I said. "I don't want to go through that again."

He frowned and shook his head. "_Again_," he grumbled. "You're nuts!"

We wandered through the jungle of squirming unearthly plants.

"How's it going, Mr. Finch?" Brian asked me. "Feeling strong?"

"Oh yeah," I said. "I'm feeling _real strong_. Do me a favor and don't play golf around Hell's Gate. It might be bad for your health."

"Oh yeah? And why's that?"

"There's some big alien mushrooms. If you ever go near one, it'll kill you."

He laughed. "Thanks for the safety tip. I'll keep my eyes peeled."

We passed through a field of Viagra lollipops (as good a name as any for those alien plants). The jokes got stale the second time I heard them.

"Quiet!" the IT guy hissed, pointing to the Hummer, all covered in leather winged Ikrans.

"So you say there's Na'vi hiding around here somewhere?" Victor whispered.

I nodded. "I'm a hundred percent positive."

The small guy pointed to Snake, then to Sam.

"Go around," he hissed. "Check the terrain for blue pygmies. Shoot on sight."

"Copy," Snake said.

"Roger," Sam answered.

The two split up, darting into the woods.

A few minutes later, I heard guns firing, loud shrieks, and shouting.

Through the foliage, I could see the yellow bursts of gunfire, the blue bodies spraying orange blood, the flying spears and arrows.

And then the jungle erupted with a mass of flapping leathery wings, heavy bodies and claws that knocked me backwards into trees, shredded my clothing, and bumped the container of pheromone open, splashing it all over me.

A horny male Ikran tried to ram me with his erection, but then another one squawked, beat the first one to the ground, and snatched me up in its claws.

Then I was airborne.

I screamed as the sex crazed Ikran carried me to through the treetops, past the impossibly high jungle canopy, and into the sky beyond.


	107. Chapter 108: Mr Psychic

Flying is an awesome exhilarating experience, but it also scares the shit out of me.

As described previously, I and Ibira actually had ridden an Ikran once, but said Ikran wasn't carrying us in its claws, and it sure as hell didn't intend to take me up to its nest and ass rape me.

We flew across the canopy for about a mile, pursued by other horny Ikrans that squawked jealously at us. I thought about removing my pheromone soaked clothing, but one false move could send me on a ten story drop I doubted I'd survive.

The creature carried me over a river, but I couldn't tell if it were the same river I'd fallen in last time, or a different one. It all looked the same to me.

When I was with Ibira, I felt bold, and more than that, I had her warrior survival skills to rely upon. I was so clueless that I felt with absolute certainty that I couldn't repeat the stunt on my own without bodily injury.

And so I let the thing carry me over the rugged hills where the trees thinned out, and a range of mountains came into view.

Not what I expected. The base of each range sat firmly upon the ground, unlike what they had in the movie.

I thought that part was bullshit anyway. How the hell does a huge chunk of metamorphic rock just pop up in the air and float like that for any length of time without crashing into something or dropping deadly boulders on people passing below? At the very least, the landscape should be strewn with giant assed mounds of rock.

Wouldn't the volcanoes that formed these `floating mountains' also spray magma in a big mess all over the place? The mountains should look like abstract sculptures.

Nope, Cameron never bothered to mention that.

In reality, the mountains proved to be rather ordinary ones, the only unusual feature being the plethora of caves and ledges.

When I finally came to a stop in that Ikran's nest I thanked God that the Pandoran mountains didn't float. I was high enough above the ground already.

The nest was a messy pile of dry jungle vines that stared unpleasantly at me.

Right away, the creature shoved me into it, grabbed me with its large claws, and tried to hump me again.

I quickly ripped off my slimy shirt and threw it away from me.

The creature sniffed, snapping its head to the side, and as it did, I pulled my shoes, socks and pants off as well, throwing them in the same direction.

The Ikran rammed its beak into my head, squawked angrily, then dropped me, leaping onto my soiled clothing.

I jumped out of the nest in a hurry, running out the mouth of the cave.

I thought I was home free, but the other Ikrans had followed us, and I guess I still had some female scent on me somewhere.

Hoping to at least limit the amount of attackers, I hurried into the next available cave I could find, and I came to another nest.

This nest was full. I saw a cluster of eggs buried in the pile of dead plant matter, but its owner was not to be seen. This seemed to be as good a hiding place as any (as long as I stayed out of the nest) so I retreated further inwards, searching for an alternate way out. Even a cavern full of deadly fungus would be preferable to this.

The rear wall had a single open crevice in it, leading into a short tunnel that sloped down at an angle. A secondary cavern lay at its end, but it went nowhere. Still, it would have to do.

And so I laid down on the floor, waiting for the squawking sounds to stop.

They eventually did, but when I peered out the crevice, I saw why. A mammoth sized Ikran had entered the cavern, warming the nest of eggs with its rear end. It appeared I would have to wait for it to leave again, or I'd more than likely be torn to shred my an overprotective mother.

I fell asleep.

"I had no idea you were so romantic," I heard a voice saying in the dark.

A flashlight clicked on, and I could see a pair of tusks and a green face.

"We keep running into each other like this," I groaned.

"I know," she said with a grin. "_It's destiny._"

She shined the light up and down my body, purring softly. "My father met my mother under similar circumstances."

"That's great," I said. "Lovely."

She kissed me, pressing me against the floor.

I pushed her away.

"I'm sorry, Ibira. I don't get off on the whole Fred Flintstone thing."

"Are you sure this isn't turning you on?" Ibira said. "At least a little? This is making _me_ unbelievably horny."

"No, I'm only scared shitless."

She kissed me. "How about now?"

"That's...nice, but..."

She straddled my lap, rubbing her harness against me. "How about now?"

"Well..."

She was simulating sex with me, only a thin piece of fabric and a leather strap separating us from the real thing.

"We're sitting on rocks," I blurted. "I'm not comfortable. Let's...uh..._continue this someplace else_."

"How about an Ikran? I've always wanted to try the Mile High Club."

"I'm not sure I want to meet my maker naked, in the middle of a freaky idiotic sex act," I said.

She gave me a mischievous smile. "Why not? Doesn't He see everything anyway?"

I paled at the thought of falling to my death in her arms, and legs. To me, it wasn't romantic, it was stupid.

"Still, we could die."

Ibira caressed my chest with two hands, wrapping her other two around my waist, fingers sliding into my underwear.

"_Nosupgo._ Honey. What's the matter? We're _married_. You said no in the Trolluskan cave, and now you're saying no again. Surely you didn't marry me just to cuddle."

She stroked the bulge in my briefs. "I know that's not what your _body_ wants."

I pulled her hands away from my crotch, holding them to my chest.

"Ibira," I said. "Has Sal even developed a _cure _for _our problem_ yet?"

She shook her head. "No. But I don't care anymore. You keep doing things that excite me."

She gave me a passionate kiss. "I must have you. I don't care."

I pulled away. "I'm sorry, Ibira. But I do care. Look. I love you. That's what makes it difficult. I don't want to lose you again."

I set her gently on the cavern floor. "We should go. The others will be looking for us."

"Yes," she said. "But if that Ikran is still there, _we may have some time to kill..._"

I cinched up my underwear. "Then we'll cuddle. Besides, I'm _starving_. The last thing I should be doing is burning more calories."

She sighed in frustration. "I've heard about humans and their marriages. Based on your reluctance to have sex, your role should be described as the wife."

"I _do_ wear the skirt in this relationship," I said.

She pressed her body against me, breathing on my neck, hands grabbing my elastic waistband. "Don't remind me again, or this comes off, right now."

Swallowing hard, I brushed her hands aside. "Let's..._just check if the coast is clear_."

I peered into the outer cave

The Ikran had departed, leaving its nest of eggs unattended. I was so hungry that I contemplated living the lifestyle of a snake, dwelling in the rear cavern and subsisting on raw Ikran babies. I probably would have tried it, had Ibira not been with me.

"Damn," she muttered. "If only I had some pheromone to call it back."

I rolled my eyes.

She shoved a pair of damp sneakers into my arms. Even in the dark, I could tell by touch they were mine.

"Where did you get these from?"

"They washed up along the river," she said. "Along with bits of your shredded clothing. It's a lucky thing I found them, too. It's very difficult to single out a flying creature from a flock."

I pulled on my shoes, which felt like wet sponges and made squishing sounds as I walked. I figured my feet would feel better in them than walking barefoot for miles on sharp rocks and gravel. As much as I liked impressing Ibira, I preferred not to contract alien tetanus.

Outside, it was morning. Considering it had been afternoon when we left, I guessed about eight or twelve hours had passed.

"I guess I missed more training," I muttered.

"You are familiar with the material," she said. "It should be fine."

She glanced at the Ikran fluttering around the cliffs. "Unless you wish to _go for a flight_, I suggest we get out of here."

"You don't have to tell me twice," I said. "Lead the way."

It felt a _little unusual_ scaling the side of a mountain in my whitie tighties, but I wore a harness and ran around an office building, so it wasn't really a big deal for me.

The _bigger deal _was navigating the slight ledges, gripping the narrow hand-holds, and not plummeting to my death when a rock decides to break off under my weight.

Ibira had to save me dozens of times. Hanging by a sturdy chunk of granite with two hands, she grabbed me by the other two and set me on a strong rock shelf just seconds before her own rock (or, sometimes, a tree root) gave out.

It goes without saying that she got a little _frisky_ throughout this process, slapping me on the butt, kissing me, fondling me.

We made it to the foot of the mountain rapidly, due to Ibira's special warrior skills, and me trusting them with my life.

Soon we were at the bottom of a steep rocky grade, and Ibira was digging something out of the ground.

A couple minutes later, she was opening a yellow book bag, handing me a piece of blackened meat. "Dig in!"

I ate without once asking what it was or how she acquired it. After yesterday's `breakfast', you can probably understand why.

After mirroring my prayer custom, she also began to eat.

"I once that that this was a mere physical attraction," she said between bites. "But you have denied yourself many things for the sake of my well being. You really do love me, don't you?"

"Yes," I said. "I made a commitment to you. Part of that commitment is preserving your health and taking care of you like part of my own body."

She wrapped two arms around me as she ate with the other two. "I have married well."

I ate some more. I really was starved. "How close are we to the base?"

"We're in for a walk," she said. "We've got the Hummer back, but the fuel reserves are still limited."

I finished another bite and stood up. "Then I guess we'd better get going."

She slid a hand up my butt as her other hands stowed the rest of the food. "You're right. I'll show you the way back."

It turned out to be a long but uneventful stroll through the weeds and jungle plants.

When I asked her if she thought there was anything dangerous up ahead, she said, "I shouldn't think so. We have their roasted remains in this backpack."

Our path took us down the rocky hills surrounding the mountain ranges, and through miles of jungle. Ibira applied the foul smelling salves to my body to repel the biting insects, and we continued on.

It wasn't a bad trek. I enjoy a good hike, and have since Boy Scouts, and we were pacing ourselves pretty well, so we reached the base in good time.

Walking half naked into a building full of people, however, would be a challenge.

Ibira had radioed ahead, so Victor was awaiting us at the door.

"Couldn't wait to rip his dress off, could you?" he said.

Ibira took my hand and squeezed it. "No. I couldn't."

Victor snorted through his nose. "All right. Honeymoon's over. Put on some pants and come back outside ASAP. We've got another job to take care of."

"Right away, boss," I said.

People stared at me as I made my way down to crew quarters, but Ibira kept by my side, squeezing my hand reassuringly, so I didn't rush back in there as quickly as I probably should have.

Grace stopped me halfway to the door.

"This style of undress may be acceptable in the privacy of your own home, ," she growled. "But _here_ we have something called a `dress code'!"

"It was an accident!" I blurted.

"Yes," Ibira purred. "A sex crazed Qosiza ripped his dress off."

Grace rolled her eyes. "That's hardly a valid excuse."

"Oh, _I don't know,_" I said. "She kinda _dragged me up a tree like a mad squirrel._ There really wasn't anything I could do."

Grace blushed. "Well."

She fumbled for the next word. "Put some clothes on and get to class. Your perpetual tardiness is becoming an issue."

The woman stomped away before I could tell her I wasn't going to class.

During the course of our long walk, Victor's team had been busy giving the A-Team treatment to our pickup truck and Hummer, fixing them up with metal armor plates and chain mail to stop the arrows.

When I and my wife were back outside, we ere prompted to climb aboard the latter vehicle, the plan for the whole operation apparently formulated in our absence. They were gassed up and everything.

We got in, and the Hummer took off.

Ibira held my hand, but her other hand was caressing my thigh, sneaking over my leg.

Victor handed Ibira the photocopied scribbles that described our mission, explaining how we'd cut across the helicopter pads.

I was thoroughly familiar with the situation, so I didn't have any questions to ask.

Instead, I had suggestions.

"I have a strong hunch that you're going to face heavy opposition going in there straight-on," I said. "You might actually be better off going through the fence. They hate technology a lot more than you think."

Victor frowned. "Nice of you to tell us in advance, after we've planned out all our official strategies and everything!"

Ibira clenched my hand tightly. "We don't necessarily need to scrap the plan. Your show of force should be adequate the way it is. However, I believe I and Jason may be of better service by hunting down the Na'vi from the perimeter."

"What about the landmines?" Victor said. "We don't know where they are."

"Leave it to me," Snake said. "This isn't my first rodeo."

"Shit," Victor whispered. "You're moving my best fighters off to the sidelines. I sure as hell hope you're right about this, Finch."

We rode in silence for awhile. One of Ibira's hands played with my crotch, but I gently moved her hand aside.

At last we arrived at the clearing, to the square base surrounded by security fencing. The Hummer stopped just outside the gates.

"All right, Finch, Snake, Ibs. Here's your stop. If it all goes south, you'll have your pasty friend to thank. It wasn't my idea."

I opened the door and climbed out. Victor handed me a gun.

"Just remember," I said. "Drive slow. You're headed into an ambush. We'll try to ambush the ambushers first, or at least distract them so you can close in for the kill."

"Finch," Snake said. "I see you more as the distracting type."

"That's definitely how I feel about him," Ibira purred.

Snake rolled his eyes. "Finch, if you want to sex them up, that's your business. As long as they aren't shooting at Vic, and Vic gets them first, we're good to go."

Ibira took out her radio. "A little communication wouldn't be bad either, no?"

Victor nodded. "I think we have ourselves a plan."

Ibira checked the scrawls on the paper, leading me down along the fence. Snake grabbed me just seconds before my foot landed on a mine.

"See the way the ground is uneven over there?" he warned. "Keep an eye out. I don't want to be picking up pieces of your blown up ass all over this base!"

The next time I saw one of those, I grabbed the fence and climbed around it. The power was out, so it wasn't electrified. They explained this to me in the Hummer.

As before, Hell's Gate was a graveyard of busted up artillery, robots and vehicles, with burned out guard towers at each end.

We saw the blue pigs hiding in the mess of broken robots.

"We have an affirmative on the ambush," Ibira said. "Proceed with caution."

And then she grabs my gun and starts firing at them.

"I'm not sure that will do any good," I said. "They're not even close."

"Hitting them really isn't my objective," she said with clenched teeth.

One of the pigs yelped and fell to the ground.

"But it helps."

Seeing us, the Na'vi turned our way, raising their bows, nocking arrows. A group of them ran across the field.

I winced as the landmines exploded beneath their feet, spraying dirt, blood and alien entrails up into the air. The ones behind them opened fire.

"Go!" Ibira shouted into the radio.

When the Hummer came in with its guns blazing, the razorbacks didn't know what to do. In seconds, we decimated our enemy, the vehicles remaining in pristine condition.

My little team glanced around the field of landmines with concern.

"I'm not sure I want to go out that way."

"Neither am I," Snake agreed. "Let's backtrack and take the main road."

Ibira pushed the talk button on her radio. "All clear on our side," she said. "Hold present position so we can rejoin the company."

"Ten four," Victor said. "We're going in. Meet us at Security Gate 7."

I grabbed the radio from my wife. "Proceed with caution. Second ambush immanent. Stay away from the windows, keep your guns locked and loaded before even touching that door handle."

"Yes sir, Mr. Psychic!"

A minute later, I heard him yelling, "Shit!"

I heard a series of muffled cracks on the radio, yelling, and agonized squealing.

We hurried out of the minefield and down the road, following the side of the building until we came to the big garage door and the open security gate from which the loud noises were coming from.

Our whole team was still alive. Pablo has been stabbed in the leg, but the warning had prevented his death. He smoked a cigarette as he stood over a blue corpse.

While we were rushing to their aid, Victor and his companions had taken out the Na'vi guarding the entrance, leaving a pile of bodies in their wake. The mission was a success.

Snake, being absent from the battle, did not receive any sort of wound to the leg, but I still got asked to bring out the first aid kit, on account of Pablo's injuries.

"That's not a good idea," I said.

"Another hunch?" Victor said. "Or laziness?"

I shrugged. "All I'm saying is, if I go out there, there's going to be some Na'vi waiting for me."

"I've got this," Ibira said, leading me by the hand.

The Na'vi, sure enough, were lurking around the Hummer. Ibira took out two of them with the pistol, but then ran out of bullets.

She took out a knife, slashing one of the beasts to ribbons, but another one sneaked up behind her, pressing a crude dagger to her throat.

Luckily, she had an extra set of hands. With one set of arms, she grabbed the weapon, pushing it away from her body, while the others turned the knife around and stabbed her attacker in the stomach.

Last time I faced the thugs all my myself.

Of course, I also had sleepwalking problems, which probably meant my other self was responsible for the victory in battle. It was just as well that Ibira came with me this time.

We hurried back to Pablo with the first aid kit.

"Muchas gracias," the man said as he uncapped the peroxide. He hissed through his teeth as it burned through the wound.

"I have some Podomian maggots," Ibira offered. "They will do a much better job cleaning the infection."

"Oh no, senorita verde. I hate to impose. You keep the maggots and leeches for your own personal use."

Snake laughed. "That's pretty much how I feel about it."

Victor propped the back door open, illuminating the interior hallway. I was pretty familiar with the place now, but I still couldn't make my way through it blindfolded. The light helped.

A small leathery head poked around the door frame, sniffing the air, its head jerking back and forth.

"Dino?"

I eagerly rushed to the door.

"Who's Dino?" Victor asked.

Indeed.

Since I had chosen not to get the pheromone dumped on me during a straight-on fight with the Na'vi, the little guy hadn't bonded with me.

At all.

The little guy shrieked at me, clawing at my face, trying to rip me to pieces.


	108. Chapter 109: Domestication

"Dino! Stop!" I shouted as my little Ikran attacked me. "Stop! I'm your friend!"

I pulled the creature away from my face, but then it just hissed and spat on me.

"Somebody!" I said. "Get the pheromone, tranquilizer, something!"

Ibira quickly darted behind the creature, stabbing a dart into its neck.

Dino passed out in my arms.

"You wish to domesticate it?" she asked.

"Yes," I said. "I need some of that pheromone...and...a leather glove. When does that tranquilizer wear off?"

"About a half hour. I don't have any gloves, but..." She handed me a small jar of yellow liquid. "This should be sufficient."

She stared at my face. "You are wounded."

Before I could protest, she was licking my cuts. The others laughed.

"There. That should help them heal."

Ibira gently tucked Dino beneath one arm.

"I want a full sweep of each room as we go in," Victor said. "Then set up stations at each checkpoint until we figure out if the building is secure."

Sam nodded. "Got it, chief."

Ibira pointed to a door. "Jason and I will sweep this room over here."

Victor looked at me and laughed. "My friend, you have no idea _what_ you just married. My advice to you: Don't piss her off. If you do, _run_. That isn't a battle you can win."

Ibira just smiled.

Blushing, I followed Ibira down to the giant garage..

She pointed to the tank in the corner.

"I think it veers to the left or something," I said. "Still, it _could be useful._"

"Psychic visions again?"

I shrugged. "Pretty much."

Ibira climbed on top of the machine, looking around.

"You're right. It's defective."

I joined her beside the cannon. "Ibira...this might seem kind of weird to talk about at this stage of our relationship, but, um, these guys sent me back in time, into the body of this Tamtiwa named Henry, and, well,_ I met you_. At the PODS facility and at the factory...I've been meaning to mention it for some time, but it's not something most people will believe."

She pushed my head between her tusks and kissed me. "I believe you. You are very romantic for a human. What you did for me back there influenced my decision to marry you."

I reddened. "That's...good. Was this place and PODS also moved around by a Guild Navigator?"

"Our facility was actually moved by Judoon technology," she said. "They resemble rhinoceroses. This base, on the other hand, was brought here by more primitive means."

Suddenly, Dino woke up, clawing and scratching at my wife.

"Jason!" Ibira cried. "Now!"

I opened the bottle, coating my arm with yellow glop.

The calming effect was immediate. Dino leapt from my wife's arms, flew to my arm, and humped it like a horny dog.

Ibira laughed. "Happy?"

"Yeah," I groaned. "I guess so. At least it's not my pants."

Dino purred, wrapping around my limb, whimpering a little. It peed.

Ibira laughed, then stared at me with a weird look on her face.

"What," I said.

"I'm picturing you, in a few years, holding your child in a similar fashion."

I reddened. "The thought _had_ crossed my mind. That, and breastfeeding."

"Human males don't breastfeed," she said.

"I will after you stab me with your crotch fangs."

Ibira laughed. "Well! I suppose there's a first time for everything!"

"Um, more like _second_ for me."

She chuckled.

I heard Bryan fixing the PA system, and his pathetic attempt at karaoke that ended with Victor destroying the machinery.

The tank was locked. We couldn't get in.

She sat down and crossed her legs, folding her hands. "I've been reading up on your religion, and it says your God created man for woman and vice versa. I didn't see space aliens or Qozisa mentioned in there at all, especially in regards to...romance. Doesn't this bother you at all?"

"No," I said.

"So you're okay for exchanging the natural for the unnatural?"

"That quotation isn't about sleeping with space aliens. We're married. It's fine."

She leaned forward. "Does not bother you that I worship a goddess and not your god? Your bible seems to frown upon such things."

"You're alien, and plus I know, from what I remember from the future, you're open to the gospel. That's probably why you married me in the first place."

She looked away. "It makes me uncomfortable when you know so much about me."

Then she looked me in the eyes. "But your God does the same, doesn't he?"

"I'm no god," I said. "But yes, He does."

She sighed. "You see truly. I am in a deep conflict about my faith. While I make certain to wewrer and do the rite of Zawkob daily, I have begun to feel something is lacking."

I told her about my faith. "Maybe we could go to church sometime or something."

"Perhaps."

"I remembered when we talked about this last time. You said you rolled some ritual stones, and that they told you about how you were to love a foreigner."

She paled. "Yes."

"I think those stones are right, at least about that." I swallowed. "And the foreigner loves you back."

She blushed orange. "Yes. _ It is a good marriage._"

Ibira's head whipped to the side. "What's that?"

I glanced at the smoke at the end of the garage.

Oh.

Ibira pulled her gun out of her harness, clicking off the safety.

"Put that away," I said. "It's not what you think. But we do have to hurry before someone does something stupid."

I rushed through the garage, to the cloud of green smoke and the wildly snorting pigs.

Ibira ducked behind a locker, motioning for me to not move, but I shook my head, boldly marching out.

"Fool! What are you doing!"

I shook my head. "It's fine! It's just a bunch of pigs getting high!"

There they were. The dreadlocked Na'vi, laughing as they inhaled green gas from a giant beetle creature.

"Disgusting," Ibira muttered. "It seems like every planet has its own drug problem."

"There's going to be something worse happening here in a minute."

Ibira pointed her gun at one of their heads, but they didn't care in the slightest. "You're right. There is no honor in killing them."

She unclipped a phone from her harness, making it chirp. "Victor, this is Ibira."

I snatched the radio away from her. "Don't!"

She frowned at me. "Why not?"

The phone chirped, and I heard Victor's voice. "What you got, Ibs?"

"If Ryan finds out, he's going to come over here and kill them!" I hissed.

Ibira took the radio back, pushing the button again. "I'm going to need some rope."

"Holy shit!" Victor shouted from the end of the hall. "This is like shooting fish in a barrel!"

He pulled his gun.

"Hold your fire!" Ibira said. "There is no honor in killing them like this!"

Victor growled, waving his hands. "Then you kill them! Just hurry it up before they get sober!"

Ibira holstered her weapon. "No. That would be genocide."

Seeing Ryan sneaking up behind Victor, I ran in front of him, raising my hands in protest just a moment after Ryan said "Fine. I'll do it."

The gun went off.

A bullet slammed into my chest.

I collapsed on the floor.

"Jason!" Ibira screamed.

And then I hear Ryan yelling, "Finch! You idiot!"


	109. Chapter 109: Rebellion

I awoke in Ibira's arms, on top of the defective tank. It seemed we had been cuddling and I fell asleep.

I smiled at her. "Hi."

She smiled at me, then stiffened, pointing her fourth hand at a cloud of smoke.

"It's a bunch of Na'vi getting high," I said. "Ryan is going to shoot them because he's a cocky bastard."

Ibira sucked in her breath. "You know this for a fact?"

I nodded. "I saw it happen. Twice."

She pulled out the gun.

"What are you going to do with that?" I asked.

"I never did trust Ryan."

"Don't kill him," I said. "We might need him later."

She sighed and nodded.

We followed the smoke, just like before, but instead of investigating the pigs, we turned around, waiting for Ryan and Victor to come along.

After they played around on the P.A. system for a minute, Ibira shushed me, pulling me behind a chemical locker.

We waited in tense silence for a moment, then I heard a low whistle.

"Holy cow!" I heard Ryan shouting. "A tank!"

Then I heard Victor saying, "You see that?"

"Yeah," Ryan replied. "Looks like a fire. You want to go check it out?"

And then the dwarf passes by the chemical locker.

Ibira was quick.

In a flash, she had his arms pinned, his surprised mouth covered, and the butt of a gun hitting him in the skull.

We waited.

"Victor," Ryan radioed.

We didn't answer.

"Victor?"

I turned just in time to see Ryan sneaking past us with his gun drawn.

Before he could fire a shot, Ibira darted out, grabbed the man's gun, and clubbed him in the head at the same time.

We rushed down the corridor to the smokers' circle.

"Now what?" I said as I stared at the dull, stupid pigs. "They aren't going to move."

Without warning, Ibira let out a war cry, firing both guns into the air as she kicked each and every Na'vi with her foot.

The pigs shrieked in terror, fleeing us in every direction.

Ibira holstered her guns. "I hope you're right about this, Jason. We're about to become very unpopular."

While all this had been transpiring, Dino had been flying off somewhere. He now returned bearing a box of Hostess' Ding Dongs.

"Uh, thanks," I said.

I ripped open the box, eating two of them, gave one to Ibira, then set the rest next to the drug paraphernalia, in case someone got the munchies.

Ibira laid Ryan's gun alongside it. When I asked why, she said, "It will look bad if we are seen with it."

"You know," I muttered. "It's a good thing we did it this way. We would have been dragging corpses out and burning them. We saved ourselves a lot of work!"

She nodded. "You are very noble."

"There's one more pig in here," I said as I stared down the seemingly empty hallway.

"We'll get it," she said.

We crept down the hallway, searching right and left for signs of life.

And then we heard the loud bellowing sound.

I pressed my body against the wall. When Ibira saw me doing this, she looked thoughtful, but didn't say anything.

She drew her gun at the giant Na'vi stomping towards us, the beast rattling equipment and supply racks as it barged ahead.

I kept quiet, watching with anxious dread.

It toppled a locker.

The beast increased its speed.

I held my breath as it came closer, and closer and closer.

The creature, once more, stupidly rammed its forehead into the concrete overhang, collapsing unconscious to the floor.

We dragged the creature into the putrid freezer, locking it inside.

Once that task had been finished, we made a circuit around the building, returning to the vehicle bay through the opposite entrance.

We found Ryan and Victor waiting by the door.

I waved to them. "Hey, we just did a sweep of the rest of the base. _All clear._"

The two men pulled out guns, aiming them at our heads.


End file.
